Miss Hogwarts
by JennaMae
Summary: When the prefects hold a one-of-its-kind beauty pageant, the students are all up for it. But will the reluctant Gryffindor contestant pull HIS act off perfectly? (EPILOGUE UP; COMPLETED!!!)
1. The Candidate

_**Jenna's Notes:** I applaud Mr. Daniel Alan Radcliffe for his performance in an episode of "That Play What I Wrote". I know nothing about it, but his pictures of the said performance have a very...lasting effect on this poor demented fanfic author. :)_

_A fair warning to you all: don't read this chapter if you're eating, especially something gooey._

_Many thanks to J.A.A. a.k.a. dindranesdefender, Alli and Amy for the beta. _

**Miss Hogwarts**

_Prologue  
The Candidate_

Hermione Granger scowled at what she was seeing. Aside from the noise made by the Gryffindors running around and yelping, the Common Room was a big, gooey, disgusting mess—thanks to Fred and George Weasley's new invention.

But Hermione the Fifth-Year Gryffindor Prefect didn't know that yet. She was about to raise her wand to call everyone's attention when something round and red, the size of a golf ball, came flying towards her—and burst right in front of her face, spewing a gluey kind of substance all over her head.

The noise immediately stopped. Everyone turned to stare at Hermione, who was brushing sticky bangs off her forehead.

"All right," she growled, glaring at every shocked face in the room, "who did that?"

A hand slowly went upwards. Hermione rolled her eyes. Fred was looking like a young boy being reprimanded by his mother.

Hermione wiped the sticky substance from her face. "What _is_ this?"

"Our latest invention," he said proudly. "Snot Balls."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "This...is..._snot_?"

Fred grinned sheepishly. "Yeah."

Hermione paled. She pointed her wand at her face, muttered a spell, and the snot suddenly came off. She glared back at Fred. "That'll be ten points from Gryffindor, for attacking a prefect and messing up the Common Room. Be glad that's all I'm taking away."

"Yes, ma'am," said Fred, glancing at George. George was shaking his head. Hermione was all right to hang out with, really, but when she was wearing the silver prefect badge and meaning business, she acted a lot like their elder brother, Percy. Having Hermione as a prefect was like having Percy back, although to a lesser degree, thankfully.

"All right, everyone," she said to the Gryffindors. "I've got an announcement to make. Please sit down." Everyone scrambled for a seat, casting charms to remove the snot stuck on places. "All right, all right. Good. Now, as you all probably know, the people of Hogsmeade are planning to build an orphanage in their village. At the moment, they're asking for donations from everyone, from private donors up to the Ministry of Magic. However, money still seems to be tight, and Hogsmeade still needs a few more Galleons to start the building of the orphanage."

Hermione glanced around the room. "And that's where _we_—the ever-generous, ever-supportive Hogwarts students—come in," she said dramatically. "The prefects had a meeting this morning regarding the matter, and we decided to start a fundraising activity."

Hermione paused again for effect, as if enjoying everybody's bated breaths, when half of them were actually bored. She pulled out a scrap of parchment from her pocket. "The fundraising activity is going to be really fun. It's...a _beauty contest_."

The Gryffindors stared at her blankly.

"It's a one-of-a-kind beauty contest, I assure you. Have you people ever heard of the Miss World or the Miss Universe pageants? Well, Miss Hogwarts will be something like that—it's got a talent portion, a question-and-answer portion—"

"A swimsuit competition?" Seamus Finnigan added hopefully.

"There's a _swimsuit competition_?" Lee Jordan repeated.

The whole room suddenly erupted with cheers from the males. The girls all groaned.

"No, no, there's no swimsuit competition, sorry, and thank you for reminding us all, Seamus," Hermione went on, much to the boys' disappointment. "Now, like I was saying, it'll be like any beauty pageant—except for one thing."

Again, the blank stares from her fellow Gryffindors. Hermione savored their lack of reaction, for she knew that her next words would drop like a bombshell.

"Only _male_ Hogwarts students are allowed to join."

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in to every Gryffindor present in the common room. Finally, George spoke up. "Male..._male students_?"

"The ones who haven't experienced—or rather, hate the idea of wearing a wig, lipstick, ribbons and dresses, yes," Hermione confirmed, smiling. "Yes, one of you guys is going drag."

_"Drag?"_ Lavender Brown asked. "You mean...they'll go all girly and stuff?"

"Not just _girly_, Lavender—they'll be up on stage, strutting around in their ball gowns. All for the sake of charity...and, okay, House points."

All the girls shrieked in laughter. The boys, however, looked horrified at the idea.

Hermione looked down at her parchment. "Now, each House must have its own representative. The winner will earn his House two hundred points. The funds will be raised through the ticket sales. Eight sickles a ticket for entrance to the Great Hall, where the contest will be held on Halloween night."

"Hey, that's not fair to us men!" cried Fred. "Why do _we_ have to lose our dignity? What are you girls going to do?"

"Excuse me, Fred," said Angelina Johnson, who was the new captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, "but aren't you man enough to be a girl?"

_"What?"_

"Well said, Angelina!" Ginny Weasley called out, clapping with the rest of the girls.

"Fine then," said George. "Can you find anyone here who's man enough to go drag? That's definitely not me."

"Of course it's not you," said Fred, shaking his head sadly. "You're a genetic mishap."

"Very funny." George called Fred something less than brotherly.

"No bad language here, please," Hermione reprimanded George. "But George has just raised a very important question: _who in here is man enough to go drag_?"

No one spoke for a while. It was probably because no one _ever_ imagined Hermione Granger actually trying to convince the boys to...be girls.

"Well," Lee began thoughtfully, "he has to look a bit like a girl."

"And he has to have a lean build," added Angelina.

"He has to be funny enough to make the audience laugh," Lavender offered. "Talented—you know, for the talent portion. And clever for the question-and-answer portion."

"It wouldn't hurt if he were a bit popular around here," said Seamus.

Something about what Seamus said made Fred's face brighten, as if a light bulb had flashed in his head. "Most of all," he said, "he has to be _really_ willing."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Fred. Ginny, the youngest of the Weasley siblings and in fourth year, was looking at him curiously.

"Ah yes," George affirmed, nodding. "Really willing. Someone who has a soft spot for _orphans_."

Hermione's mouth gaped open.

"Someone who's not here to bash us all with what we're planning," said Fred.

"Someone who's in detention right now with dear Ronniekins," said George.

Everyone in the Common Room, save for Hermione and Ginny, burst into laughter.

"You...you..." Ginny sputtered, "you can't mean..._him_?"


	2. Convincing Harry

**Miss Hogwarts**

_Chapter One  
Convincing Harry_

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley grudgingly climbed the steps heading to Gryffindor Tower. Both were obviously drained after their detention. Harry was taking every step slowly, clutching the banister as he did.

"Give me a run-down of the day, will you?" Ron grunted, rolling his sleeves up to nurse his biceps.

"Well," Harry gasped, "this morning, Errol fell on your porridge and spilled it all over your front."

"At Herbology, Ernie Macmillian toppled that pail of fertilizer all over our shoes," added Ron.

"And we had to go back to the dormitory all smelly," Harry went on. "Then Filch caught us putting dung tracks on the entrance hall, and gave us detention."

"Don't forget the stupid assignment Trelawney gave us."

Harry snorted. "You just had to put the Uranus joke on her again, didn't you?"

Ron didn't seem to hear him. "Tthen this bloody detention. Who would think of sweeping the bleachers in the Quidditch pitch at nine in the evening?"

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was putting her hair into rollers. "Only Filch," muttered Harry.

"Sorry, dear, that's not right!" the Fat Lady said cheerfully.

"Glumbumble," Ron groaned. The portrait swung open.

Harry sighed. "Could this day get any worse?" he asked Ron as he stepped into the portrait hole.

Harry suddenly had to clap his hands over his ears. The Common Room had burst into riotous applause as he entered. He barely had time to register what he was seeing when Seamus grabbed his arm and shoved him into the crowd.

"All right, Harry!" Dean Thomas cheered, thumping a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes indeed, well done, old boy," said Fred, shaking his hand vigorously in an uncanny impersonation of Percy.

"You're going to make Gryffindor very proud!" squealed Parvati Patil.

"Proud? What's going on?" asked Harry, but the noise drowned his own voice. It seemed that he was passed around the common room and had both hands shaken by everyone, until he was somehow returned to Ron's side, who looked as bewildered as he was.

"_Now_ what did you do?" asked Ron.

"Nothing!" said Harry indignantly. Through the crowd, he noticed Hermione sitting beside Ginny on the couch. Both of them seemed to be stifling amused smiles.

"Hey, WAIT A MINUTE!" Harry roared. The cheering died, and Harry found his opportunity to speak. "Would anybody mind telling me what _exactly_ is going on around here?"

Everyone's heads turned towards Hermione. Ginny nudged her on the elbow.

Hermione, biting her lip, stood up. "Well, Harry," she told him, "we've been...planning for something while you and Ron were gone."

Ron raised his eyebrows at her. Harry thought he saw her give Ron a look that said, _You're going to enjoy this._

"I'm listening," Harry said guardedly.

Hermione jumped straight to the point. "We want you to be the Gryffindor contestant for Miss Hogwarts."

Harry blinked. He wasn't sure he heard her right. "Why would I miss Hogwarts?"

Everyone snickered. "Oh, Harry, _honestly_," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "_Miss Hogwarts._ It's a competition. A _beauty pageant_. You _do_ know what the Miss Universe is, don't you?"

Everything still didn't seem to fit. "So, uh...I'll be an escort or something?"

"Even better," Fred countered. "Didn't you hear? You're going to be the contestant."

Harry stared at Fred. Then, after a moment, he held both palms up. "Hang on. I think you're all a little confused. Do I have to put my pants down or something to make you see that I'm _ not_ a girl?"

The boys roared in laughter; the girls let out one collective gasp. "No, Harry—and shut your mouth, will you?" Hermione said. "We don't want to see it."

"You don't?" asked Lee, grinning. "You really don't?"

"I know a few here who'd love to," Fred said. He shoved Ginny from behind.

In the blink of an eye, Ginny cuffed her brother on the chin. Fred fell backwards and Lee fortunately caught him before hitting the ground. 

Ginny dusted her hands and turned back to Harry and Hermione.

"It's like this, Harry," Hermione explained patiently. "Miss Hogwarts is a beauty pageant—but only _boys_ are supposed to join. And we chose _you_. Meaning, _you_ are going _drag_."

Harry stared blankly at Hermione, not sure how he was going to take it all in. He thought he heard her mention him going drag. For a beauty pageant.

"It's not for nothing, you know. It's for a cause," Hermione added. "Proceeds will go to the orphanage being planned in Hogsmeade. You know about that, don't you?"

Harry looked at her suspiciously. "You were all planning this when Ron and I weren't around, weren't you?"

"It was an unanimous vote, Harry," George said. "Practically everyone here wanted you to be the contestant."

"Even _you_?" Harry asked Hermione.

Hermione smiled guiltily. "Well...you _are_ a good choice, you know."

Harry stared in disbelief. "That's not fair. You made your choice without asking _me_ what I think. Right, Ron?" He looked over Hermione's shoulder.

Ron was standing against the wall, his arms folded in front of him. He wore a serious expression on his face. "Harry, I only have this to say," he began.

Harry looked at him hopefully.

Ron broke into a goofy grin. "It's not a bad idea."

Hermione positively beamed at Ron.

Harry gave Ron a withering look. So much for his loyal, supportive best friend. _I'll get back at you for this, you git,_ Harry mentally told him.

"We'd have chosen you even if you were here," said Lavender.

"You wouldn't be able to back out," Fred added, fully recovered from Ginny's wallop. "You're the only one with that kind of charisma."

Harry scowled at him. "No. NO WAY. NO—WAY. I'm not doing it. Do what you want, you can't convince me."

"But Harry, you were the best we could think of," Hermione moaned.

"I'm flattered," he said sarcastically. "What about—what about Ron? He's tall, he's slim—"

"—And freckly," finished Ron. "They wouldn't want Goldilocks, they'd want someone with a dark, natural kind of beauty." He smiled. "For once, I'm proud of my freckles."

"Harry, come on," Hermione implored. "Please. Isn't the orphanage important to you?"

_Orphanage._ Harry faltered a bit. For a moment, he remembered himself lying awake in that cupboard under the stairs back at the Dursleys, wishing that someone would just take him away from that awful place and love him like a real parent would. An orphanage would have been so much better than that cupboard, had he been privileged enough to be put into a wizarding one.

"No," he said, in a choked sort of voice. "I'm not going to do it. I'll donate some, sure, but going drag for a cause is a stupid idea."

Hermione looked hurt at Harry's statement.

"I'm going to bed," Harry finished, glaring at all of them.

Everyone stared as Harry dodged Hermione and headed up the stairs. They all winced as they heard the distant slamming of a dormitory door.

"Seems like we have a problem," muttered Seamus.

George shook his head. "Convincing him is going to be harder than we thought."

Ginny, however, was smiling. "Don't be silly," she told George. "He's softening."

"You really do have the measure of him, don't you?"

There was a malicious glint in Fred's eyes when he spoke. "Measure of _what_, precisely?"

It didn't take Ginny a long time to realize that Fred was talking about something very rude. Fred ducked his head too late. Lee caught him again as he fell, dusting her hands as she stomped up the girl's staircase.

_You're doing it,_ was what Harry's mind told him the moment he woke up the next morning. _You'll go drag and help the school raise money for the orphanage. You can take an evening of humiliation—it's for a cause!_

Harry groaned and buried his head under his pillow. "I'm not doing it, I'm not doing it, I'm not doing it."

_Yes you are, yes you are, yes you are. _

He suddenly had a mental image of himself in blonde curls and a ruffled dress, pushing his glasses up his nose. Not a good sight at all. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

He suddenly heard someone open the curtains of his four-poster. He removed the pillow over his head and squinted. It was Ron.

"Are you losing your mind?" Ron asked, more hopefully than concernedly.

"No, thanks for asking."

"Oh." Ron looked disappointed. "I hoped you were. Then you'd have changed your mind about representing Gryffindor—"

"I told you, I'm not going," Harry said flatly. He reached for his glasses and got out of his bed.

"You _want_ to go, don't you?" Ron asked. "You just want to be prodded a bit more."

"Try me." Harry inwardly winced at what he just said. _Yeah, let him tempt you and you'll eat your words,_ something in his head said.

"Fine." Ron gave him a triumphant smile. "See you at breakfast."

Harry only realized then that Ron was already wearing his robes. Ron headed out of the room, practically jogging.

Sighing, Harry went over to his closet and took out his own robes.

The first thing Harry noticed when he got down to the Great Hall for breakfast was the cluster of red hair on one end of the Gryffindor table. The most brilliant red of them shot up as he arrived.

Ginny nudged Ron on his side as she grinned up at Harry. "'Morning, Harry," she said.

"Hi," Harry managed to say. Ginny _rarely_ spoke first in Harry's presence. He grew a bit suspicious.

"So." Fred, whose jaw seemed a bit swollen and red, sat back on his chair. He and George wore identical mockingly somber expressions. "You've given it some thought?"

_You have no idea,_ Harry almost said. "I stick with what I said last night. I'm not doing it."

"Well, there seems to be a problem," George said. He put his hands together on the table. "Have a seat—we've got...very shocking news for you."

Harry looked at the four Weasleys. Ron and Ginny were obviously trying not to smile. Dreading what they were going to say, he sat down beside Ron.

"It's like this," said Fred. "The prefects of each House had to submit the names of the contestants a while ago, for Dumbledore to approve them."

_"WHAT?"_

George nodded grimly. "Unfortunately, our resident prefect has already given...your name."

Harry swore under his breath, thinking of ways to torture Hermione without Ron killing him for it.

"It's not that bad, you know," George went on. "Think of what you'd be earning for Gryffindor—glory, fame—"

Harry looked at the bacon served in front of him. He suddenly didn't feel like eating. "Please. I've had enough fame to last me a lifetime."

"Okay, then. Think of what you'd be doing for those poor kids. Think of how they'd look up to Harry Potter as a very central character in building their orphanage."

"I'll back out," Harry said suddenly. "That's it. We won't have a Gryffindor representative!"

"And we're all going to _ kill_ you," Ron said.

"The Gryffindors _chose_ you, Harry," said Ginny beseechingly. "Why let them down?"

"You chose me without my consent," Harry replied.

Fred, George and Ron looked at each other. They seemed to agree to take a different approach.

Fred took a deep breath. "Okay. What is it you want? Just name it. The Firebolt Three, a girlfriend—Cho Chang—"

"Oh, shut it," Harry muttered, casting a glance towards the Ravenclaw table. Cho was still talking animatedly to her friends.

"You don't want a girlfriend?"

"No," Harry said flatly.

Fred looked at Ginny sadly. "Aww, isn't that a pity?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes into slits.

"We'll get you a make-up artist, talent instructor, the works," George said, apparently trying to prevent Fred from being hit again.

"And all I have to do is humiliate myself in front of the school, is that it?"

"Well...yes?"

The image of him in the dress became much, much clearer. Harry shuddered. _"No."_ Harry poked his fork into a sausage and bit it savagely. "I'm backing out."

"We're removing you from the team if you don't join," Fred abruptly declared.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Go ahead. Find a new Seeker and train him real well for the match against Slytherin in November. It's about...a month and a half away, isn't it?"

Harry sounded so irritatingly confident, and yet the others knew Gryffindor couldn't do without him on the Quidditch team. The four Weasleys slumped back on their chairs in defeat. They seemed to have used up all plans to convince Harry—until Ginny spoke up.

"Look, are you a Gryffindor or not?"

Harry looked at her, surprised at hearing her voice so sharp towards him. "I'm on this table, aren't I?"

Ginny was looking at him straight in the eyes. "Yes. So what happened to the 'bold and daring' part? Don't you know that the measure of a true Gryffindor is how willing he is to be humiliated in front of people to help other, _less fortunate_ ones? Don't you know that a true Gryffindor is _man enough to be a girl_?"

Her elder brothers looked at Harry in tense anticipation.

Ron had been right. Ginny wouldn't shut up most of the time, especially when provoked.

And she had said what had been running in his mind since last night. He could take an evening of humiliation—knowing it was for a cause. But pulling it off was another question entirely.

Was he brave enough to be a _girl_? Harry swallowed. Ginny—_Ginny Weasley_ had _dared_ him to be a girl to test his bravery.

Ginny was starting to smile. "You're getting convinced," she told him.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "This will be all your fault."

Ginny's mouth gaped open in shock. "So you're doing it? _Really_ doing it?"

Fred, George and Ron all dropped their jaws in unison.

"You're doing it!" Fred jumped off his seat victoriously and stood up, facing the other Gryffindors. "HE'S DOING IT! HE'S—"

George had clamped a hand over Fred's mouth and dragged him back to his seat. "SHUT UP! This is supposed to be a _secret_ from the other Houses!"

Ron had turned to Ginny, still looking dumbstruck. "Ginny...do you have any idea how hard it is to talk Harry into something?"

"You, little sister, are a _genius_!" George told her.

Fred grinned at her. "Listen, do _you_ want a boyfriend?"

Ginny shot Fred an intimidating look. 

Meanwhile, the image of Harry in blonde curls appeared in his head again, more creepily defined than ever. He began to see pink eyeshadow and red lipstick painted on his face.... He felt his breakfast being churned in his stomach, and wondered what in the world he had just agreed into.

_**Jenna's Notes:** Thanks to Alli, dindranesdefender, Amy and Laurel Grey for the beta!_


	3. Asking for Assistance

**Miss Hogwarts**

_ Chapter Two  
Asking for Assistance_

"Oh, Lavender, this is _just_ lovely!" Parvati gushed as she gazed at the silver necklace Lavender had handed her. "Where did you buy it?"

Lavender tucked a few strands of hair behind an ear and smiled coyly at Seamus, who was grinning at her from the other side of the room. "Seamus gave it to me on my birthday last month."

"Oh, _wow_! That is _so_ sweet!"

Lavender winked at her. "That's what happens when someone is head over heels for you."

Harry watched, mouth hanging open in disbelief, as Lavender and Parvati broke into a fit of giggles. Parvati playfully slapped Lavender on her arm, and Lavender shoved her hard on her side. The girls giggled even harder.

"I don't believe it," Harry mumbled to himself as the thought of what he was about to face in roughly four weeks sank into him slowly, yet forcefully. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Harry, Hermione and the Weasley siblings were sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace in the common room that evening. Ron and Hermione were engaged in a wizard's chess match, and it looked as though Hermione was losing again. Ginny, meanwhile, looked like she was about to doze off.

"I tell you, Harry," George was saying, "you'll get free samples of Snot Balls from us simply for joining."

"Snot Balls?" Harry repeated.

"Their latest invention," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Don't ask."

"You should be glad you joined," Fred told Harry. "This is the most prestigious beauty pageant in the history of Hogwarts!"

"It's the _only_ beauty pageant in the history of Hogwarts," said Hermione.

"Still reading _Hogwarts, A History_, aren't we?" Ron teased as he watched one of his knights knock off a white pawn. "Fancy adding an entry into it? Harry would love that."

"If ever I get into any book, I don't want my picture in it to be me in a frilly dress," Harry said gloomily. "Seriously, why am I supposed to be thrilled about all this?"

Hermione patted him on the hand. "You'll be helping those orphans, remember that."

"Everyone has told me that, and I don't feel any better."

"You will, once you _really_ get into this contest," Hermione said good-naturedly. "I'm sure the other prefects also had a difficult time convincing their house's choice to join, but I know that in a couple of weeks, you guys will be so into the contest that you'd do _anything_ to win."

Harry shook his head. "I can't imagine why. Who'll join from the other houses, anyway?"

Hermione shrugged. "We haven't told each other, you know. But they told me their choices haven't agreed to join yet. In fact, you're the first to agree, and that's saying something."

"Weird," Harry mumbled, still looking depressed. "They must be lying. I thought you all had to submit the names of the contestants to Dumbledore this morning."

Ron, Ginny, Fred and George looked at each other. Ron and Ginny were suddenly wide-eyed.

Hermione was cocking an eyebrow at Harry. "Uh...did we have to?"

Ron widened his eyes at Hermione, apparently trying to tell her something.

"What?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Hermione, intelligent as she was, didn't seem to have caught on. "What are you talking about? We'll tell the professors and the students who the contestants are at the same time."

Harry's jaw dropped open in shock. "What...what were you telling me about Dumbledore this morning?" he asked, turning to Fred and George.

The twins just grinned sheepishly.

Harry threw his hands up. "Great. Wonderful, you know that? I've been outwitted, at the cost of wearing a wig and make-up." Another thought, a horrible one, crossed his mind. "And in front of _Dumbledore_! What's he going to think of me?"

"He's going to marvel at the Gryffindorian spirit you showed by joining," Ron said wisely. Ginny nodded in agreement.

Harry gave each of the Weasleys a seriously evil look.

"We _are_ going to help you, you know," Hermione pointed out. "We'll get someone to do your hair and help you with your talent and all."

"Speaking of your talent," George said, "what are you going to do?"

Everyone turned to Hermione, who shrugged at Harry. "You can dance."

Harry suddenly had a vision of himself wearing a hula costume—complete with a huge hibiscus perched on his hair.

"I _don't_ dance," said Harry through gritted teeth.

"You can always play Quidditch on stage," muttered Ron dryly.

"That would be fun, wouldn't it?" said George sarcastically. "Who'd want to see the Seeker fly around the stage like he always does during Quidditch season?"

"Unless you wear a two-piece bikini as you fly, of course," said Fred.

George and Ron snorted in laughter.

"Oh, don't be disgusting, you three," Ginny told her brothers. "As if the professors would allow that."

"Why wouldn't they?" asked George.

Hermione looked at him as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "Do you expect the first-years to take that lightly? We'll probably traumatize them or something. Anyway," she proceeded before anyone could protest, "you, Harry, have to find someone to assist you through the preparation for the event."

"Hermione, I don't just _trust_ my hair with anyone, especially when I expect them to peroxide it blonde."

"Well, don't look at me," Hermione told him. "I'll be busy coordinating the event with the professors—right now we're trying to settle on an age limit on the audience."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron.

"No, _not_ Ron. Not _any_ boy. You'll need advice on what to wear—and let's face it, you guys don't know the first thing about make-up."

"Why would we bother with them?" asked Ron.

Hermione ignored him. "I strongly suggest you take a girl as your assistant." She looked around the common room. "How about Parvati or Lavender? They know a lot about makeovers and things like that."

Harry shook his head vigorously, watching Lavender whispering to Parvati. "Nope. No way. They'll—they'll probably turn my face orange or something."

Parvati suddenly let out a twittering sort of laugh. She and Lavender started shoving each other again.

"Check," Ron muttered to Hermione.

"Okay," Hermione said, sighing. "Is there anyone in here, other than me, whom you trust your face and hair with?"

Harry was about to tell her, as his eyes trailed on her bushy brown hair, that he didn't trust her with his hair, either. But she was right—she was one of the very few girls he trusted.

And as he looked around the common room, he had to correct himself—Hermione was probably the _only_ girl he trusted enough for assistance. Having been his friend for five years, Hermione knew him well enough—better than anyone, except perhaps for Ron.

But then again...

Harry's eyes fell on Ginny. She was staring at the chessboard in a jaded manner, and it looked as though she was going to fall asleep with her cheek on her fist.

Ginny looked up and saw Harry staring at her. She blinked and cocked her head sideways. "What?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "You got me into this, didn't you?"

"Why, that's perfect!" exclaimed Hermione as she grinned at Ginny. "Ginny—you know a bit about make-up and stuff, don't you?"

Ginny looked wide-awake all of a sudden. "Well... I can manage, I suppose...."

"Well, that's settled," Hermione said brightly. "Harry—you'll let Ginny do you hair and teach you what you'll be doing in the talent portion, won't you?"

Harry glanced at Ginny. She looked nonchalant about all this, as though she had helped a lot of other boys before Harry become girls, but she looked at Harry expectantly.

There was nothing else to it. Besides, he could trust her, couldn't he? He shrugged. "Sure."

Ginny nodded, her expression still unreadable.

"Great," said Hermione. "We'll leave Harry to you then."

Harry missed Ron, Fred and George's horrified stares.

"I think we'll be able to finalize the contest rules tomorrow morning," Hermione went on. "I'll let both of you know as soon as I get a copy, okay?"

Harry nodded.

"Okay," said Ginny quietly as she stood up. "Um, I'll just be... upstairs... get some sleep."

"Right, then," said Hermione, smiling at her. "Thanks, Ginny."

"Anytime," Ginny replied, nodding at Harry. "'Night, everyone."

It was then, as Ginny headed upstairs, that Harry noticed her brothers' stricken looks. "What now?" he asked them irritably.

"Why Ginny?" Fred asked desperately. _"Why?"_

Harry blinked. "Why not?"

Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Let me tell you something, mate," he told him gravely. "When she was six, Fred and George bullied her so much that she somehow turned their hair into a horrible do without the use of a wand."

"One side of our hair became yellow spikes," Fred told him. "The other side became violet curls up to here." He motioned to his right shoulder.

Harry's eyes widened in shock.

"And she loves doing it!" George yelled. "If you look at the witch doll collection she had as a kid—Harry, they're—"

There seemed to be no words to explain what the doll collection was.

Hermione was smiling. "She's got taste. Violet compliments yellow in the color wheel, doesn't it?"

Harry buried his face in his hands. "What have I gotten myself into?" he whined again.

Ron shook his head, hiding a smile as he moved his bishop across the chessboard. "Checkmate."

* * *

Ginny closed the door to their dormitory quietly. It was then that she finally allowed herself to blush.

Thank goodness the room was empty, for her roommates would have caught her grinning foolishly in the dark. She made her way to her bed and closed the hangings of her four-poster.

Harry had singled her out. Of course, she was only the second choice, but she could live with that. At least he trusted her—even if it was only with his hair. It was already something, especially for someone who had loved him for what he was ever since she was ten years old.

Ginny hugged her pillow and smiled wickedly as she lay on her bed. She had a lot of plans for Harry Potter.

_Thanks to Alli for the beta!_


	4. In the Fitting Room

**Miss Hogwarts**

_Chapter Three  
In the Fitting Room_

It was only as she reached the Great Hall when Ginny realized that she was practically skipping her way to breakfast.

Getting a hold of herself, she wove her way through the crowd towards where Ron and Harry were sitting. She squared her shoulders, flipped her long, flaming-red hair, and smiled as she approached them.

"Hi," she said, taking the empty seat beside Ron. "What's up? Where's Hermione?"

"Haven't seen her all morning," Ron replied, spreading marmalade over his toast. "Harry?"

"Uh, no," Harry mumbled, staring down on his cereal. "I haven't seen her."

Years of watching Harry from afar had taught Ginny that if Harry couldn't look into the eyes of the one he was speaking to, something about him or her was seriously bothering him. She noticed Fred and George sitting not far from them. Both of them seemed to be stifling smiles.

Ginny drummed her fingers on the table impatiently. "Okay, what's going on?"

Ron shrugged. Fred and George both kept straight faces as they shook their heads, confirming Ginny's suspicion that whatever happened, her brothers had something to do with it.

Just then, Hermione arrived, clutching her usual stack of books between her arms. "'Morning, everyone," she greeted.

"So what are the details?" Harry asked quickly.

"Hush up," Hermione hissed. She was discreetly keeping an eye on the Slytherin table. Ginny saw that a few of the Slytherins were standing up to take a good look at Hermione.

"What're they doing?" Ginny wondered aloud.

"Trying to find out who's joining from Gryffindor, of course," Hermione answered as she saw down beside Ginny. "They still want to win, even in a contest like this. Come to think of it, this contest is worth two hundred House points," she added as an afterthought.

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. "Imagine what they'll do if they find out you're joining," she told Harry.

"They'll probably trip me wherever I go," Harry sighed.

"Just like every Quidditch season," said Hermione. "That's why we still don't know who's joining from the other Houses. It's like we all want to keep our candidates secret."

"So you have absolutely _no_ idea?" Ginny asked.

"Well...actually I've got a hunch that a sixth-year Hufflepuff is joining..."

"Wouldn't it be great if Goyle joined?" muttered Harry.

Ginny grinned. "He'll win for originality and incredible confidence," she said.

She felt her heart skip a beat when Harry gave her a lopsided smile.

"Oh no," Ron was saying, lowering his voice. "When they find out you're joining, Harry, Malfoy'd volunteer."

"Malfoy?" Ginny repeated. Everyone knew Draco Malfoy was Harry's school rival, dating back to time knows when.

Hermione smiled. "I can't see why not."

"That's all I need," Harry said, shaking his head. "Competing with Malfoy over who'd make a better girl. As if Quidditch hadn't been enough."

"Come on, Harry," Ron said, nudging him. "Ginny will, er, turn you into a good one."

Harry lifted his eyes at Ginny. Ginny smiled and shrugged.

She marveled at how good she had suddenly become in hiding her feelings for Harry. Harry, meanwhile, had looked away, and it was then that she noticed an apprehensive look on his face.

Ginny was about to say something when Hermione spoke up again. "I think they've stopped looking. Now. I'll be telling you a bit of what to do for the contest."

"I'm listening," said Harry.

"Well, we just got great news from Gladrags in Hogsmeade, and they're willing to let us rent the dresses we'd use for the contest. That'll include the shoes and accessories. Isn't that great?"

"Er...I suppose," said Harry uneasily.

Ginny nodded, all the while wondering if she could keep those gowns for herself.

"You'll have to choose the gown on the next Hogsmeade visit," Hermione went on, smiling. "Which, as you all know, is two days away."

Ginny saw Harry swallow. It looked as though the full force of what he was facing hadn't hit him fully yet.

"We'll have to hide him if that's the case," said Ron. "If you still want to keep Harry a secret from the Slytherins."

"Of course," Hermione replied. "Thank goodness there's the Invisibility Cloak."

Ginny looked at her in surprise. "You've got an Invisibility Cloak?"

Ron jerked his thumb towards Harry. "He does."

"Wow," Ginny whispered to herself, staring. "That's—that's quite rare, isn't it?"

"Yep," said Harry quietly.

"That would take some planning," Hermione said, wheeling back to the topic at hand. "Will you let me continue now?"

Harry, Ron and Ginny turned to Hermione as she looked down on a scrap of parchment.

"A few bits of these might change, but this is what we have so far. The four contestants will first come on stage, have a bit of presentation together, and introduce themselves. Then we'll have the talent portion—which you should prepare for, Harry. Then there'd be the evening gown, then the interviews. With me so far?"

The other three nodded.

"We might put in some informal interviews and stuff between each portion. Harry—remember this. A huge percentage of your total score will be based on your intelligence and wittiness, so you'd better watch out."

Harry looked at Hermione. "I'm not intelligent enough for you, huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I just wanted you to know. It's forty percent of your score. Twenty-five will go to your talent, fifteen for your long gown, ten for grace and confidence, and another ten percent for overall impact. Got it?"

"I think," Harry mumbled.

"Right," said Hermione. "There'll be a dress rehearsal two days before the contest. You'd have to wear the dress and all, but you'll keep the talent to yourself." She handed the parchment to Ginny.

"Talent," Ginny said, scanning the piece of parchment. "Do you already know what you're going to do, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "I thought you're supposed to teach me?"

Ginny set the parchment down and looked at Harry squarely in the eyes. "You wouldn't exactly let me teach you how to belly-dance, would you?"

Harry looked abashed. "No!"

"I thought so." She smiled smugly.

"You have to make up your mind soon," said Hermione. "And Ginny, suggest a few things, won't you?"

Ginny regarded her with a half-smile. "That'll be quite hard," she said. _Especially since it's Harry we're talking about,_ she added mentally. "But I'll come up with something."

What Ginny came up with, Harry found out that Saturday in Hogsmeade.

"You're going to dance."

Harry sighed heavily. Nothing seemed to surprise him anymore.

Harry, Ginny and Ron were discussing the Miss Hogwarts contest quietly over tankards of Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks. As they had earlier planned, Harry kept his Invisibility Cloak in his bag. It was a lot of hassle, but Harry thought he'd rather go through it than let everyone know so soon that he'd be wearing a gown on Halloween.

Hermione had gone a few minutes earlier with Betty Sparks, the Hufflepuff prefect, to scout for possible stage decorations.

"I suddenly remembered this song, and it sounds perfect for dancing," Ginny was saying. "It's sort of a club dance, and it's easy enough to learn."

Ron knotted his forehead. "There's already a dance step for it?"

"I'm working on it," Ginny said. "It's already running in my head." She grinned at Harry. "Of course, that's if you'd like to do it."

Harry was beginning to strongly suspect that the twins and Ron had made up the story about Ginny's doll collection. She hadn't threatened to do something drastic to his hair, at least. In fact, she had been nothing but friendly and supportive, albeit quite annoying, all week.

But then again, he hadn't seen her handle a make-up kit yet.

"It sounds okay," Harry said finally. "Unless you have any other suggestions?"

Ginny took a swig of Butterbeer. "I was also thinking of you lip-synching a Weird Sisters song and dancing on stage, like in a concert," she said. "But that would be too easy. Anyone can lip-synch. Besides, they'll all be looking for _real_ talent."

Harry let out a dry laugh. "You haven't seen me dance before, have you?"

"Sure I have," Ginny said, seemingly taken aback for being asked such an obvious question. "Last year, at the Yule Ball. You were dancing with...with Parvati." She suddenly ducked her head. Harry thought he saw her blush.

"That's was one of the worst nights in your life, wasn't it?" Ron said, grinning.

Harry smirked. "It was worse for you."

Ron turned red in no time. Harry smiled with satisfaction—the reaction was always the same whenever Harry reminded him of his fight with Hermione last year.

Ron coughed loudly and looked down on his watch. "We'd better get going," he said. "It's almost three."

Harry and Ginny finished their Butterbeer in long gulps, and followed Ron out of the pub. Ron kept casting furtive glances around him. Finally seeing no one looking their way, he signaled to Harry and Ginny. The two of them sidestepped to a hidden spot behind the Three Broomsticks.

Ginny watched in awe as Harry took out his Cloak and draped it over him.

"You still there?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Can you...can you see me?"

Harry had to chuckle. "How is this going to work when I can't?"

Ginny shrugged, smiled sheepishly, then tossed her head towards Ron's direction. "Come on, then."

Harry followed her. He had never been more anxious about being seen.

"Is he here?" Ron asked Ginny.

Ginny looked about her. "I told him to follow me."

She started trashing her arms here and there, promptly whacking Harry hard in the right eye.

"Ouch! Ginny!" Harry gasped, clapping a hand over his eye.

Ginny gasped and pressed her hands over her mouth. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Harry croaked, blinking. "Look... just lead the way to Gladrags. I'll be right here, I promise."

"If...if you say so," Ginny said. Ron, smiling, walked along the High Street towards Gladrags.

Ginny and Harry followed him. They passed by Fred and George, who went straight to Zonko's Joke Shop, and (to Harry's horror) an irritated-looking Draco Malfoy, flanked not by Crabbe and Goyle but by Pansy Parkinson. Harry held on tighter to his Cloak. If Malfoy would see him standing right outside Gladrags....

Ginny was looking at Malfoy and Pansy with interest. "Wonder what's up with him?" asked Ginny.

"Who cares?" Ron snapped. He opened the door to Gladrags, which was quite empty—it only seemed crowded because of the moving mannequins waving as Ron entered. When Ginny stepped into the store, Ron slammed the door shut.

Just as the door was swinging back to its frame, something in the air hit it, bouncing it back towards Ron. There was a bumping noise right outside the store.

Ginny let out a gasp. "Harry!"

The door opened by itself, was closed by an invisible force, and a disgruntled-looking Harry appeared out of thin air.

"Er, sorry?" asked Ron, trying very hard not to laugh.

Harry was rubbing his head as he mouthed a swear word to Ron.

They were approached by a very pretty saleswitch. "May I help you?"

Ron gaped at her, mouth hanging open. Harry shook his head, inwardly relieved that Hermione was nowhere near.

"Um, we were..." Ginny looked around and, seeing that no Hogwarts students were present, went on. "We were going to look at the dresses for the Miss Hogwarts contest."

"Ah, of course," the saleswitch said, smiling. "A contestant has just gone with his own choices. You're from Gryffindor, I presume?"

Ginny nodded.

"Who'll be fitting?"

Ron stepped aside to show her Harry.

The saleswitch gasped. "Harry—_Harry Potter_?"

"Er, yes, that's me."

"Of course you're him." The saleswitch smiled at him. "I'm just surprised that you'd join the contest."

Harry blinked.

"Why wouldn't he?" Ginny asked, grinning. Harry raised his eyebrows at her.

The saleswitch led them to one side of the store, where there were dress robes and gowns of all designs and colors. The moving mannequins, chalk-white in color, smiled at them and waved their arms in perfect model fashion. Harry made a mental note to imitate them if he were to do the whole Miss Hogwarts thing properly.

Ginny gawked at the gowns, as though she hadn't seen such dresses in her entire life. She let her fingers trail on a gown, which changed from lavender to periwinkle as she moved the fabric.

"Here," the saleswitch said, holding out a scarlet gown. "Try this on."

Harry had expected Ginny to take it, when the saleswitch handed it to him. He blinked, then realized that _he_ would be fitting the gown. He took it and looked at Ginny and Ron uncertainly.

Ginny nodded encouragingly. "I'll take your Cloak—to hide you...you know, in case someone's looking."

"I'll keep watch," said Ron.

_The conspiracy's going well so far,_ Harry thought. Harry handed Ginny the Invisibility Cloak and followed the saleswitch to the fitting rooms. She held the door of a cubicle open. He stepped inside and bolted the door.

He looked at himself on the full-length mirror inside and held out the gown. Trying on a gown, with Ginny Weasley, Ron and a saleswitch waiting outside, was repulsive at its best. But did he have any other choice? He should have just escaped while he was still under the Invisibility Cloak.

The things he had to do for Gryffindor.

Shrugging, he took off his robes, shirt and pants and, figuring out how to open the gown, stepped in it.

He looked terrible. The sleeves fell off his shoulders and the skirt ballooned from waist down. "Hey, will you take a look at this?" he yelled, unlocking the door.

Ginny peeked in, and broke into a grin. "Very...flashy."

Ron shook his head. "Next please."

The saleswitch held out an elegant fuchsia gown.

This went on for another quarter hour. The discarded gowns were being stacked on a nearby chair, and the pile was getting higher and higher, and the saleswitch was becoming irritable by the minute. Harry was strongly reminded of the day he chose his wand back at Ollivander's, in Diagon Alley, five years ago.

Finally, Ginny decided to handle the choosing of the gown herself. Harry watched her purse her lips, look around, and pick up a shimmering pale green gown. She studied it and gave it to Harry. "If that doesn't look good on you, I don't know what will."

Harry closed the door again, took off the revolting ruffled pink dress he was wearing, and slipped into the green gown.

"Can we see?" Ginny called out.

Harry stepped out of the cubicle. Ron and Ginny blinked at the same time, and the saleswitch nodded in approval. "You've got taste, young lady," she told Ginny.

Ginny beamed. "Turn around," she told Harry, who obliged.

The dress was very simple, yet elegant—and Harry didn't look bad in it, considering. It was made of a kind of fabric that sparkled beautifully.

Ginny hurriedly went away and came back with a pair of silver-colored shoes, with heels so thin and high Harry thought they'd snap once he stepped into them. The saleswitch handed him a sparkling necklace and bracelet ("Fake diamonds," she had said), and they didn't look so bad—just as long as Harry covered his face.

"Try to look graceful," said Ginny. "Put a hand on your waist, bat your eyelashes, and smile."

_Here we go,_ Harry thought. He remembered the mannequins.

He grinned widely, blinked furiously, and put his fist on his waist.

Ron was shaking with laughter so badly that he had to go away to recover.

"We'll work on it," Ginny assured him. "But you'll take that gown, all right?"

"Fine by me," Harry said.

"Oh, and you'll have to choose your dress for the opening and talent, too," the saleswitch said.

_"What?"_ Harry gasped.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're not going to wear _that_ for the whole contest, you know."

Harry stared at her in disbelief. This day was going to be longer than he had anticipated.

In the end, Harry chose a black glittery dress, which was perfect for the dance number Ginny had in mind. They also chose a flashy red thing (Harry couldn't even bear to call it a _dress_) for the opening number—red because, as Ron had said, Harry would be representing Gryffindor.

Ginny chose the shoes and accessories herself, and signed on the rental slip. As she did, Harry caught her staring at a short, simple white dress displayed on a smug-looking mannequin. When the mannequin noticed Ginny, it straightened up as though to flaunt its dress even more.

Ginny wrenched her eyes off the mannequin and proceeded to put one of the parcels into her bag. "Let's go," she said quietly.

Harry took the Invisibility Cloak from her and put the black dress into his bag. Ron hid the other dress in his. Making sure that no one is looking, Harry put on the Invisibility Cloak, and the three of them got out of the store. (Ron had held the door open longer this time.)

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Stage one of the pageant preparations was over. The three of them walked as far as they can from Gladrags, and Harry finally removed his Cloak just outside Honeydukes.

"Hey! You three!"

Fred and George were running towards them with mischievous, triumphant grins on their faces. Ginny looked at them dubiously. "What did you do this time?" she asked.

"Spied," George told her, still grinning. "On the Slytherins."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"To find out who's their candidate, of course!"

Harry grinned widely for the first time all day. "So you found out? Are you sure?"

Fred nodded vigorously. "Positive. We were in Gladrags, and he and his girlfriend caught us watching them, and the kid was wearing a peach _gown_. He looked pretty, come to think of it...."

"Well?" Ginny pressed on, looking excited. "Who is it?"

George looked at Harry seriously. "The platinum blonde-haired, pale-faced, amazing bouncing ferret."

Harry, Ron and Ginny stared.

"Malfoy," Fred confirmed. "Draco Malfoy."

_To be Continued..._


	5. Dancing at Midnight

**Miss Hogwarts**

_Chapter Four  
Dancing at Midnight_

"I still don't get it," Harry said, running a hand through his hair—almost pulling it, even. _"Why?"_

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny followed him as he stomped his way towards the castle. Ginny brought up the rear, still lugging her backpack bulging with Harry's dress.

Hermione looked thoughtful, though equally frustrated. "Let's say they _did_ find out you were joining. Malfoy'd love to win against you. If he can't beat you in Quidditch, he'd beat you in Miss Hogwarts."

"But that's stupid!" Ron countered. "No one from the other Houses know, you said so yourself."

"We can't be too sure," said Harry. He turned to George. "You almost shouted it to the Great Hall the other day."

George looked at him indignantly. "How would they know I was talking about you?"

"You were sitting a few seats away from me!"

"No, Harry," said Fred. "It's 'cause you're too obvious."

Harry whirled around to face Fred. "What do you mean, obvious? _Me?_"

"Yeah, you are," George agreed. "There you go, looking grumpy all the time in the corridors—what would the others think, then?"

"I could be grumpy because of anything!"

Harry went into the entrance hall, still fuming. But what he was angry about, it was difficult to point out. Was he angry because the Slytherins found out he was joining, just in time when he could lose all dignity he had, or because he found out Draco Malfoy was joining, too?

Well, joining Miss Hogwarts was one thing—but competing against Malfoy in _that_ contest? Ginny knew Harry would have another go with that Hungarian Horntail instead anytime. But had Ron been right in saying that Malfoy joined as soon as he found out Harry was joining? Was Hermione right—that Malfoy wanted to beat Harry in just about _anything_?

And how did they find out, really? Well, that was easy. Ginny had her own ideas, but she kept quiet all the while.

"Then look at you now," Ron nagged on. "And your dress is coming out of your bag! What else is anyone going to think?"

It was true; the hem of the black dress was slung out of Harry's backpack, and it was so glittery that anyone could notice it. Harry violently shoved it deeper into his bag and zipped it shut. He started to climb the stairs.

"Harry, calm down," said Hermione. "It isn't as if Malfoy's a threat or anything."

"Oh, but he is, my dear," George told her. "Like I said, he was pretty in that gown."

"Then let me tell you, George," said Ron in a loud, proud voice, "Harry looked pretty in his gown, too."

Unfortunately, Padma Patil happened to be passing by. Ginny knew that Parvati's twin had a crush on Ron, and even more unfortunately, she always kept an ear out of whatever Ron was saying.

Ginny saw Padma's eyes widen. With a suspicious look at Harry, Padma hurried to a group of Ravenclaw fifth-years and whispered something to them excitedly.

And as if luck was mocking Harry, Cho Chang turned her head around to take a good look at him.

Harry looked at Ron exasperatedly. "Nice going, Ron. And you think _I'm_ obvious, huh?"

"You're obvious in a different way," Ginny suddenly said.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. Ginny had noted a while ago, in Hogsmeade, that he always did that to her more than what was necessary. Hermione and Ron, meanwhile, looked at her questioningly. For a moment, she reconsidered saying all that she thought—nothing about what she was going to say was fine for Harry Potter, especially an infuriated one.

"You think that?" Harry said, looking incensed.

Something about Harry's challenging stare made Ginny unable to stop herself. "You're obvious because everyone _expects_ you to join," she blurted out.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, not keeping his eyes off her.

Ginny hesitated this time. "Even if—even if they needed to assume otherwise...they've already singled you out," she answered. "Because...you're Harry."

Harry's face became even more threatening. He descended a few steps and stood right in front of her, glaring at them. "So is this why you convinced, even forced me to join? Because you singled me out...because I'm Harry Potter?"

"No!" Ginny yelled. "_We_ chose you because we _believe_ in you!"

"Yeah, right," Harry spat. He looked fiercely at Hermione and Ron, then at Fred and George—even the twins had nothing to say to him. "This whole Miss Hogwarts idea is nothing but crap. I should've realized it before."

Before anyone else could reply, Harry had made his way up the stairs, stomping loudly.

Ginny's face fell. Was that Harry actually quitting? She mentally cursed her tongue for wagging itself without restraint. _So much for being an assistant,_ she thought.

"He's not serious," Fred stated, still looking up at Harry's retreating figure.

"How do you know?" asked Ron.

"He still carries his backpack. With the dress in it."

"Oh."

"Don't mind him," George said confidently. "Mum and Ginny have their days too, once a month. I'd say, Harry's getting the hang of being a girl a lot better than he thinks...."

Harry turned a corner, finally disappearing from view. "You know, I understand why he's mad," Ginny muttered, paying no attention to George. "We _did_ choose him because he's popular and he's soft when it comes to orphans, right?"

"We didn't choose him for those reasons _only_," Hermione said sensibly. "But you're right, the Slytherins must have kept an eye on him as soon as Miss Hogwarts was announced. Two hundred House points is something, after all."

The others nodded in agreement.

"Even if we do win the Quidditch Cup this year, it'd be hard to keep up with them if they win Miss Hogwarts," George pointed out. He slowly grinned. "They know Miss Hogwarts is their only chance to win the House Cup—they know they can't beat us in Quidditch."

"Very conceited of you, George," said Ginny witheringly. "Maybe you should start wearing that Bighead Boy badge of Percy's."

"And you, kiddo, are terribly funny," said George, yanking Ginny's long hair.

Ginny swatted George's hand away and let out a huge sigh. "Guess I annoyed him even more, huh?"

"Don't worry, Gin—he'll calm down soon," Ron assured her.

"You were right, anyway," Hermione added. "Harry is Seeker for Gryffindor, he saved the school in our second year"—Ginny couldn't help but smile a bit as she remembered that moment—"and he became a Hogwarts champion last year. Why wouldn't he be the Gryffindor candidate for Miss Hogwarts?"

"The poor kid," Ron said, shaking his head. "Lots of things happen to him, and everyone else expects _everything_ else to happen to him."

Hermione shook her head too, seconding her pity for their best friend's inopportune fate. "Listen, we're not just going to abandon our plans," she told them all. "Harry will budge, somehow. We'll continue planning. Ginny, is there anything else you and Harry need?"

"A bearskin rug," said Fred.

Ginny kicked him hard on the shin. "We've got all the dresses. Hair and make-up we can deal with soon, and I've begun on planning the talent."

"Okay. Do you need anyone else to help—back-up dancers, maybe?"

"No, we don't—_oh_!" Ginny suddenly clapped a hand on her forehead. "Oh wow, how can I i>forget? He needs a _dance partner_!"

Fred patted Ginny on her shoulder. "The dance you have in mind—maybe you were picturing yourself and Harry in your head instead."

"Oh Fred, shut up," Ginny muttered, making no move to hurt him because, admittedly, her brother was right.

"Hmm...that won't be too hard," Hermione said. "I'll talk to everyone later to see who'll volunteer."

"I doubt you'll have an easy time finding one," said George. "Convincing Harry was hard enough."

"Yeah, but the partner doesn't have to wear some girly wig, right?" Ron asked.

"No," George replied. "But how would you feel, dancing with someone who wears one?"

Harry couldn't sleep that night. He lay awake, listening to Neville's loud snoring and Ron's indistinct mumbling. Harry thought he heard Ron say, "No, not the library!" and it stumped him how a certain bushy-haired prefect professed herself perfectly in Ron's dreams.

Harry rolled on his stomach restlessly. Just a few days ago, whenever he thought about Miss Hogwarts, the image of him in blonde curls appeared in his mind. Now, the image was gone—it was somehow replaced by a writhing feeling in the pit of his stomach, as though it finally hit him: he wasn't just going drag, he was actually _competing_ in a drag contest.

_And against Draco Malfoy._

Well. At least it was a lot better than Malfoy watching him make a fool of himself on stage.

But that didn't comfort Harry at all. That would mean he couldn't fool around. That would mean he had to...

_Win._

Harry bolted upright. How could he win? He didn't even know how to be a girl! Ron and Ginny had laughed when he tried to pose for that green dress—and he had been _serious_ with that. Feeling more agitated than ever, he got out of bed and, for lack of anything better to do, decided to head downstairs.

But when he opened the door of their room, he heard music. It sounded like something one would hear in discos, but the music was unfamiliar.

Harry quietly crept downstairs. Even as he did, he had a feeling he knew who was playing that song. And then, he heard something else.

"Back, place, front, place, right, place, left, place—"

He was right. It was Ginny—and the weirdest Ginny he had ever seen. In the semi-darkness, with only the small fire in the fireplace to light her up, she was muttering to herself, and dancing. She was holding her hands out as if she had a partner. Fascinated by her antics, he leaned on the railing, watching her.

"Walk, and left, and turn and—_eeep_!"

Harry jumped back. Ginny was staring at him, red-faced, wide-eyed in shock. _"What are you doing here?"_ she gasped.

"I just...went down...can't sleep," Harry managed to say. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Oh. I, um...was doing the dance steps." She went towards an armchair and picked up her wand. She gave it a flick, and the music stopped.

"I've never seen that spell before," Harry told her. "What's it called?"

_"Recordari,"_ Ginny replied. "Of course, I had to use WWN. Recorded it last summer." She cocked her head at him suspiciously. "How long have you been watching?"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "I think I caught you in 'back, place, front' or something like that."

Ginny flopped down on the armchair and sat on her legs. "You're mean."

Harry ignored her comment. "Why are you dancing in the middle of the night?" he asked as he sat down on an armchair directly across her.

"The same reason why you were watching me," she said. "You thought I was weird, didn't you?"

"Well, I'm not going to lie."

Ginny, however, didn't give a sarcastic comment. She merely looked at him and said, "Are you still mad at us?"

Harry, of course, knew what she was talking about. Her words that afternoon had stung, because he had to admit—she was right.

"We didn't single you out because of who you are, you know," Ginny said quietly, looking at the fire. "You should have been there when we were choosing the candidate. Believe it or not, you're everything we thought our candidate should be."

Harry smiled wryly. "Yeah?"

Ginny nodded. "Fred and George seemed to notice first, and then they made out you should be the candidate. Everyone agreed—like I said, we all believe in what you can do."

"What can _I_ do?" Harry argued. "It's not as if you've all seen me model around or anything."

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know about the others, but _I_ think you're an expert in proving yourself," she said. Harry frowned in confusion, so she went on. "You face whatever comes your way and do your best. Miss Hogwarts is no exception. Besides," she added, smiling, "you love competition, don't you?"

Harry snorted. "Not competition that involves going drag," he mumbled.

"Not even with Malfoy competing against you?" Ginny asked sweetly.

"Ha ha," said Harry sarcastically. "You have no idea how it scares the living daylight out of me."

"So...what?" Ginny asked. "You're backing out?"

Backing out? With the Slytherins—and Malfoy—already knowing that he's joining? They'd probably think him a coward. It was like Ginny had said after all—he _was_ a Gryffindor, wasn't he?

"I'm not backing out," he finally said. And it surprised him how certain he felt when he spoke.

Harry saw Ginny sigh in relief. "Well," she breathed, smiling, "that's good."

"You won't have it any other way, anyway," he added, only half-teasing.

Ginny laughed out loud. "Nope," she said. "You have no other choice."

"Oh Ginny, how I _love_ you," Hermione gushed the next morning. "I've never known anyone who can talk to him like that!"

Ginny was surprised at herself, too. She had found it hard to sleep last night, after she and Harry went back to their respective dormitories. She had stayed awake for a long time, thinking about Harry and how casually friendly their conversation was, and how talking to him felt so _easy_. If she had only known years before that it was like that with Harry, she would have acted as herself around him rather than as that awkward girl who put her elbow in the butterdish. She didn't sleep until she noticed that the sky outside was turning to the violet hue of dawn.

"I don't think he meant to back out, really," she told Hermione. "I just...well, told him that we didn't single him out for the wrong reasons."

Hermione nodded. "That's good. Oh, poor Harry—this whole contest is probably the biggest one he'll ever face."

Ron snorted. "You prefects suggested it, mind you."

A thought suddenly occurred to Ginny. "Hermione, has anyone already approached you, about being Harry's partner?"

Hermione shook her head. Last night, she had spoken to the Gryffindors about it (without Harry knowing, of course), but they weren't able to find a suitable partner for him. Fred and George had suggested each other for the most part of the evening until they tired everyone out.

Ginny saw Harry walk into the Great Hall and approach them. His hair was messier than usual, if that was possible, and there were dark rings under his eyes. He took a seat beside Hermione. "Hello, you all," he mumbled, picking up a toast.

"Harry, you can't go about looking like that all the time," Hermione chided him at once.

"Hermione, Miss Hogwarts is three weeks away," said Harry wearily.

"Yes, but the candidates are meeting today—right after breakfast."

Harry dropped the toast. Ginny and Ron gaped at Hermione.

"They _what_?" Ginny asked out loud.

"Cool!" Ron exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

Harry, meanwhile, picked up his toast on the table and shoved it into his mouth. He grabbed his goblet and finished its contents in one great gulp. Wiping his lips, he turned to Hermione. "Great. Can't wait. Where are they?"

Ginny and Ron exchanged bewildered looks.

"W-well..." Hermione looked around her. Betty Sparks was standing up, pulling Justin Finch-Fletchey's arm as she did. Ernie Macmillian clapped a hand on Justin's shoulder, grinning widely. Betty looked at Hermione pointedly.

"Right now, I think," Hermione said, shuffling to her feet. "Come along, Harry."

"Break a leg, Harriet!" Ron shouted for the Great Hall to hear. The other Gryffindors turned to look at Harry and Hermione—and broke into loud applause. Even Hermione had to grin.

_"Harriet,"_ Ginny mumbled. "Have you decided to start calling him that?"

"Well, he's got to have a stage name, doesn't he?"

"Hmm. Good point," said Ginny. Then, to her great surprise, Harry grinned and waved in a fashion not unlike the wave those mannequins in Gladrags did.

"Oh my," she heard herself say.

_"Where'd he learn to do that?"_ Ron yelled, but he was still clapping along with the others.

Suddenly, cheers and applause erupted from the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was standing up, looking unnaturally pink.

"Why are drag queens coming mostly from fifth-years?" asked Ginny, looking at Ron suspiciously.

"Look at Ravenclaw," said Ron, paying no heed to her comment. Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, was standing up, holding both fists high into the air as the Ravenclaws cheered.

"He's in seventh year, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded. He narrowed his eyes at the Ravenclaw contestant. "He's a bit beefy, you know—he won't look good in a gown, the way Harry does."

"It really depends on the gown," Ginny told him. Her eyes followed the four contestants exit the Great Hall. She instantly noticed Harry and Malfoy look at each other with utmost loathing.

"It didn't matter that we found out about Malfoy too soon, after all," said Ginny thoughtfully. "But you know, I think Harry became more serious about winning Miss Hogwarts when he learned Malfoy is joining."

"Very much like it is in Quidditch," Ron affirmed. "Plus two bloody hundred House points."

"Maybe you should thank Malfoy," Ginny suggested.

Ron snorted as he resumed attacking his bacon and eggs. "No way," he said firmly. "I won't have _anything_ to do with Miss Hogwarts."

Ginny looked at Ron in surprise. How dare he! His best friend was going drag, Hermione the prefect was busying herself with the contest, and she, Ginny, was Harry's assistant. And Ron wasn't doing anything to help?

_Wait a minute._ A sly grin slowly spread across Ginny's face as she looked at her brother's profile. He was tall and slim, and he and Harry got along _very_ well...

Her mind whirling with ideas, Ginny hooked her arm with Ron's. Ron looked at her skeptically. "What now?" he asked.

"Ron, you'd do anything for your little sister, right?"

"Eh?"

Ginny looked up at him beseechingly. "And you'd do anything for your best friend, right?"

Ron scowled at her. "What are you on about?"

"And you'd do _anything_ for him to win, right?"

Ron stared at her. Then, as if the whole idea suddenly struck him, he pulled his arm out of Ginny's grip, looking pale and horrified. "No. _No_, Ginny, I'm not doing it."

"Oh, come _on_, Ron, please?"

"NO!" Ron scooted out of Ginny's reach. "This is not my problem!"

"Please, oh please, Ron, for Harry's sake, and Hermione will be ever so grateful, please, please, _pleeeeease_?"

"NO!" Ron yelled again. His eyes were wide as saucers. "I told you, I won't have anything to do with Miss Hogwarts, Ginny, and that's _final_!"

**Jenna's Notes:** Hah. Of course, we all know Draco MUST be the Slytherin contestant. ;-) And as for Roger Davies, I don't think the books made mention of his exact year in Hogwarts... but if you think otherwise, let me know.   
Oh, and I've moved! My site is at now :) Cheers!


	6. Holding Hands

_With thanks to Bart Simpson, for the ingenious use of That Camera._

**Miss Hogwarts**

_Chapter Five  
Holding Hands_

Harry thought his head was going to explode.

Ron stood on his right, scowling. For the past quarter hour, Ron had been muttering four-lettered cuss words a mile a minute, ranging from the mundane to the incredibly foul ones.

"I heard that, Ron," Ginny growled.

Ginny was standing in front of them. She was in a rather cranky mood. They had planned to practice the basic dance for a couple of hours, but fifteen precious minutes had already slipped away and they hadn't started yet.

It was all because the two boys didn't want to hold hands.

"Can't we dance without holding each other?" Ron asked his sister.

Ginny huffed as she put both hands on her slight hips. "The whole purpose of a dance partner is to _lead_ the other," she said. "How are you going to do that without holding Harry?"

"Why don't you dress up as a guy and dance with him?" asked Ron.

"Where's the humor in that?"

"Oh, so this is it—the talent portion is all about being funny. What a wonderful insight."

"It's part of it," Ginny insisted. "And stop being a prat."

Ron was about to retort, but Harry pulled him away. _"Stop,"_ he snapped at the two of them. "We're not getting anything done here."

Ginny sighed heavily. "Finally, you've noticed," she said witheringly.

Harry returned her withering gaze. Since when did Ginny Weasley told him what to do? It was unnerving. She was almost...almost like Hermione, in fact.

Harry made no attempt to tell Ron off about having to dance with him. He wanted to tell Ron that he was not the one who had to wear a wig and a dress. But then again, Harry reasoned, Ron was only helping him.

It therefore turned out that the most intriguing question was how Ginny had gotten Ron to dance with him. Harry didn't have the chance to ask yet—but whatever it was, it seemed that Ginny was someone you wouldn't want to have you convinced.

Ginny looked at both boys half-pleadingly, half-sarcastically. "Now, _please,_ I beg you—even if I have to fall on my knees, I'd do it—just..._hold hands_."

In normal situations—that is, if he weren't the subject of the whole incident—Harry would have laughed his guts out at the scene. Two boys being prodded to hold hands in the Transfiguration classroom that Professor McGonagall had agreed to let them practice in. Harry and Ron looked at each other alertly, as though expecting the other to pounce as soon as their hands touched.

Ginny tapped her shoes on the floor impatiently. "I'm waiting."

After what seemed like ages, Harry and Ron's hands met halfway.

"Well," said Ginny. "Finally. A development."

Harry swore he felt Ron's hand grow cold with each passing moment.

"Now face each other," Ginny instructed, which they did. Ron's face and neck were the color of his hair, and their hands had begun to sweat. "Ron, put your other hand on Harry's waist. Harry, your other hand will go to Ron's shoulder."

Harry and Ron looked at each other awkwardly. Hands shaking, Harry placed his left hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron put his right hand on Harry's waist—or more appropriately, Harry's robes.

Ginny watched them squirm. "Harry, do it in a bit more girlish way," she said. "Put the _back_ of your hand on his shoulder instead. Like this." She twisted her wrist around and set her fingers in a very elegant manner.

Harry attempted to do what Ginny did to her hand, but his fingers didn't seem to want to curl the way he wanted them to.

"Good enough," Ginny sighed. "We'll get to it later—let's do the basic steps first, then we'll put them all together."

Ginny began teaching them what she termed as "basic". "Back, place, front, place" turned out to be an impossible succession of footwork. He and Ron stepped on each other's feet, of course, but Harry felt he got the worse end of it—Ron's feet were _huge_.

Dancing with Ron was worse, if possible, than being cooked up in an unused classroom with the prefects and the three other contestants that morning. Paul Arden, a sixth-year and the Ravenclaw prefect, had explained to them all that Hermione had told Harry, but adding (a tad mischievously, Harry had noticed) that they were to have rehearsals in the week before the contest. Harry had the strangest feeling that the whole Miss Hogwarts idea was Paul's.

Malfoy and Eric Slevin, the Slytherin prefect that reminded Harry too much of Viktor Krum, had been in the back of the room, talking in hushed tones. Harry had seen Malfoy glare at him one too many times, but it didn't bother him at all.

What really bothered him, actually, was Roger Davies. He was the last Ravenclaw he'd expect to join Miss Hogwarts—what with his bulky arms and broad shoulders—but he had been there, sitting between Harry and Justin Finch-Fletchey. He was the only one who had looked excited about the contest, and while Harry attempted to listen to Paul Arden, Roger had made comments that made him and Justin cringe.

"Cool contest they've made up, don't you think?" Roger had asked.

"Er, yeah," Justin had mumbled.

Roger had sat back on his seat, grinning widely. "They've made all sorts of plans for me already. How're you going to get breasts?"

Harry and Justin had looked up at the same time, horror-struck. Who would have thought of talking about breasts with boys you barely knew, and who were two years younger than you?

Roger didn't let them answer, though. "The girls in my house were thinking of human transfiguration. Cool, don't you think?"

Roger had looked seriously thrilled.

Harry had stiffened. He saw Justin swallow hard. Justin's face had turned a sickly green, and Harry wasn't surprised if his face had looked the same. "Er, yeah," he had managed to croak out. "Cool."

He had told Hermione this (leaving out the story about breasts and human transfiguration of course) after the meeting, and Hermione had looked at him most gravely.

"Harry," she had said, patting his shoulder, "The one who thinks Miss Hogwarts is nothing but 'cool' is a serious contender."

Meanwhile, Ginny was shaking her head as Harry and Ron made their futile attempt at dancing. When Ron kicked Harry on the ankle—not very accidentally—she threw her hands up in frustration. "Ron, you're messing up on purpose, aren't you?"

"I'm not!" Ron snapped back.

"Oh, come over here," she said, grabbing his wrist.

Relieved that Ron had finally released him, Harry watched Ginny as she easily placed herself into the position Harry was supposed to take. "The technique is, follow my feet. You always start with your left foot forward," she explained. "So if I do this"—she drew her right foot back—"your left foot follows it."

Why did it look so easy when Ginny did it? After a few tries, Ron caught up with Ginny's steps. Ron did all right, really...he didn't look so bad, dancing with a girl. _A girl,_ Harry repeated to himself.

But then again, he was _supposed_ to be a girl in Miss Hogwarts.

Ginny gave up teaching Harry and Ron after another quarter hour. "Maybe you should get the feel of the song first," she finally suggested.

"Great," said Ron, quickly releasing Harry's hand and wiping his on his sweater. "What's the song, anyway?"

"_Heaven at Midnight._ By Magical Grooves."

Ron looked at Ginny disgustedly. In Ron's polluted mind, Harry reasoned, there could be only one thing that could be described as "heaven at midnight."

"It's not what you think," Ginny said, apparently reading both boys' minds, especially her brother's. "It's about a boy and girl dancing at midnight, and they're happy about it, and—oh, why am I saying this, you won't understand it either way." She gave her wand a flick and said, _"Playback!"_

The song Harry heard the night before issued out of Ginny's wand. _Heaven at Midnight_ was a very upbeat song, with lots of percussions and xylophones. The singers were warbling in falsettos, which actually sounded good with the melody. It sounded like the sort of song you'd hear in evening parties at the beaches—not that Harry had been in one.

Harry heard a ticking noise in the room. At one corner of the room, Ginny was snapping her fingers and bobbing her head up and down as the song played. It suddenly struck Harry how devoted she was to helping him through the contest. It seemed as though if she was driven to do something, she gave her whole heart to it, even to the point that she bossed people around. He always thought she was calm on most circumstances. This Ginny Weasley, the one teaching them how to dance, was someone he hadn't seen before.

The song began to fade, and Harry looked away as Ginny turned back to them. "What do you think?"

"Awful," said Ron.

"Great," Harry said at the same time.

Ron gave Harry a look of disbelief.

"Well, at least one of you likes it," Ginny said brightly, grinning at Harry. "Shall we continue?"

Harry decided to stifle a huge sigh. He owed it to Ginny.

* * *

For the rest of the week, right after dinner, Harry, Ginny and Ron practiced the dance in the empty Transfiguration classroom. Hermione, who came to watch every now and then, had suggested they lock up every cranny and put Silencing Charms all over the room, just in case someone was spying.

"This dance will pave the way for Harry's success," she was saying as they headed to Potions class on Friday after lunch. "And Ron's our secret weapon."

"This doesn't flatter me at all," Ron said flatly.

"Why not?" Hermione asked cheerfully. She seemed to be having a lot of fun with Ron being the butt of jokes, not her, for once. "You're a good dancer."

Harry saw Ron's ears turn beet red, but he was quite sure it wasn't out of anger.

Harry dreaded Friday more than any day of the week. As it was every year, the fifth-year Gryffindors took up double Potions with Slytherin. Harry had never been more annoyed with the set-up than now, as they entered their classroom in the dungeons.

"You're squirming, Harry," Seamus said as he, Dean and Neville came up behind Harry. "Scared of meeting Malfoy face to face?"

Harry lifted his chin up defiantly. "As far as Miss Hogwarts is concerned, Malfoy is history."

"Great fighting spirit you have there."

"It's Malfoy," Ron told Seamus, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course he's got fighting spirit."

Harry saw some of the Slytherins look their way as Ron mentioned the name. Malfoy was sitting at the back of the room, looking strangely subdued.

"Just look at him," Ron went on. "He's bleedin' scared of Harry already."

"A wonderful way to get a Slytherin scared, huh?" Dean remarked. "Be a girl."

Seamus gasped mockingly. "Maybe he's already got a thing for you!"

Ron laughed boisterously, taking no notice of Hermione trying to hold him back. "Have you worn that gown in front of him, Harry?"

"_No_—and _shut up_!" Harry bellowed.

Just then, Professor Snape came into the room, billowing black robes and all, and quickly made the introduction: "Ten points from Gryffindor for taking the whole Miss Hogwarts business seriously, Potter," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. Then, as though he didn't make it clear yet, added, "You yelp like a girl."

Harry swore inwardly. The Slytherins snickered. Ron threw him a smile that looked more amused than sympathetic. For once in his life, Ron was smiling at something Snape said. Harry made a mental note to use an Unforgivable Curse on his best friend right after the class.

"Get your partners," Snape barked at the class. "We have a complicated potion to make."

"We always do," Ron muttered, scooting over Hermione.

Harry sat beside Seamus. He didn't hear Ron. He was looking at the large block words Snape was scrawling on the blackboard: VOICE-ALTERING POTION. PAGE 278.

Harry took out _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and turned it to page 278. He found the ingredients to the potion.

"Crushed chrysanthemum petals, powdered tarantulas and chicken intestines are the most crucial ingredients in this potion," Snape said. "The amount of petals will determine the range of voice—the more petals you put in, the higher the range. The tarantulas can make your voice strong or weak."

At this point, Snape's eyes fell on Harry. "The chicken intestines, meanwhile, will change the huskiness of the voice. And you can use a meter of it, Potter, if you want to do a good job in Miss Hogwarts."

The Slytherins guffawed in unison. Harry stared back at Snape witheringly. He was having fun with all this.

Harry began putting all the minor ingredients into his cauldron. Then he cut two inches of chicken intestine. It was enough—of course he wasn't about to play along with Snape. He tossed the intestine to his cauldron and watched the liquid crackle.

"Hand me those petals, will you, Ron?" Harry heard Hermione say as he began crushing his own petals with his mortar and pestle.

"Hang on," said Ron. He picked up the bowl that held the petals, and was handing it to Hermione when his hand slipped and the whole bowl came splashing down Ron's cauldron.

_"Bugger!"_ Ron yelled. He would have said something ruder afterward, if Hermione didn't tug at his robes and motioned to Snape, who was striding over.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said, a hint of an amused grin on his face again. "Are your hands getting a hangover from all that dancing, Weasley?"

The Slytherins roared with laughter. Malfoy cracked a wide grin. Ron's jaw dropped in disbelief. Hermione, wide-eyed, stared back at Ron.

Harry just smiled, bemused. _What do you know?_ he thought. He was smiling at Snape's joke, too.

* * *

"BLOODY HELL!"

The cuss words shooting from Ron's mouth after classes didn't sound so bad to Harry. Hermione didn't think it was funny, though. "Ron," she snapped, "stop swearing all over the place!"

"How could I?" Ron yelled. "They already know!"

"They're going to find out you're the dance partner soon, anyway. What we should be worrying about right now is how much they've seen of the dance—"

"You mean this isn't important at all? Hermione, I've lost all my dignity!"

Harry lost his earlier reservations to retort. "You're not the one who's going drag, you know."

"But I _am_ going to dance with someone in drag," Ron told him. "And no, that's _not_ what I'm made for. I was born with a broomstick for a reason!"

Harry's eyes bulged out of their sockets. He glanced at Hermione, who was looking back and forth at them, clueless.

"You have a way with words, you know that, Ron?"

Harry whirled around at the sound of the voice. Ginny had suddenly appeared behind Harry. She was looking at Ron disdainfully.

"What do you mean, he has a way with words?" Hermione asked Ginny.

Ginny shrugged. "Ask him," she said, jerking a thumb toward Ron.

"Shut up, Ginny," said Ron, reddening.

_"What?"_ Hermione insisted on knowing, for some reason.

_"Forget it!" _

"It's something rude, isn't it?"

_Good Lord,_ thought Harry. Despite how many sets of encyclopedias she read, Hermione still had the most innocent mind in Hogwarts.

"No, it's not!" Ron asserted.

Well, thankfully, Ron didn't want to corrupt it with any dirty thoughts.

Harry tuned out the exchange. He noticed that Ginny was carrying something wrapped in a napkin, apart from a couple of school books. By the looks of it, she was going to take them out.

"Where're you going?" he asked.

"Outside," Ginny replied matter-of-factly. Then, probably upon noticing Harry's surprised look, she added, "I've got no one to talk to in the table."

Ron suddenly stormed off furiously to the Gryffindor table, with Hermione trailing behind him. They didn't seem to notice that Harry and Ginny were left behind.

Harry sighed. "Well," he mumbled, "looks like I'm between those two again."

"Yeah, looks like it," Ginny said, smiling sympathetically. "Well...I'll better be off."

Harry smiled back, thinking about how cute Ginny looked with the way she smiled. Then, out of nowhere, he was suddenly struck by an idea. "Hey," he said, brightening up, "I'll come with you."

Ginny's eyebrows snapped together. "What?"

"If you want to, I mean," Harry said quickly. "You could use some company, and...well, it seems like those two"—he motioned at Ron and Hermione, who were sitting together at the Gryffindor table—"have to solve _their_ problem by themselves."

"Oh...sure!" Ginny said, her cheeks turning pinkish. "Come on."

Harry grinned and followed Ginny out of the castle.

A blast of cool air greeted them. It was a sunny autumn day. Yellow, red and brown leaves floated on air as the wind blew them off the trees in the Forbidden Forest toward their direction.

Ginny took a deep breath beside Harry. "Lovely day, huh?"

"Yeah..."

Harry let Ginny walk a few paces ahead of him. The wind blew her hair back, and the sunlight shimmered on it, casting hues of red and gold. Her hair was long and incredibly straight—and it looked so smooth, too. Harry felt a strange urge to touch it, but somehow stopped himself.

"So, Ginny," he began instead, absently kicking a stone in the way, "there's something I've been trying to figure out since Sunday."

Ginny tilted her head to look at him. "Yep?"

"How did you convince Ron to dance with me?"

"Oh, it wasn't so hard," Ginny said, giggling lightly. "When he's so against it that he won't budge even if I twisted his arm"—_Ginny _twists_ her brothers' arms?_ Harry hated to think about what she'd do to him if he hadn't agreed to Miss Hogwarts—"I thought I'd have to use other measures."

"Like what?" Harry asked curiously.

Ginny sighed happily, as though relishing the memories. "Well, when I was eight and Ron and I were the only kids left at the Burrow, Dad brought this camera home. We had a lot of fun with it."

"Uh-huh?"

"And...well, we got a bit rowdy and started taking candid pictures."

"Let me guess. You took his picture while he's in the loo."

"Oh, no," Ginny said, grinning. "He took it himself."

_"He what?"_

"Yeah!"

Harry gaped at her. "You _blackmailed_ him—you told him you'd show it to everyone!"

"Only to Hermione," Ginny replied, winking at him. "It worked."

Harry had to shake his head in disbelief. This was one girl you wouldn't want to face off with. But surprisingly enough, there he was, walking with her without any thoughts of leaving.

Ginny led him to the benches at the back of the castle, where they had a view of Hagrid's hut and the Quidditch pitch not far off. The mountains were hazy in the distance. All of these were in a backdrop of a periwinkle sky. It was a lovely day, indeed...

Harry settled beside Ginny, who Indian-sat on one end of a wide bench and handed Harry a buttered croissant. "Snacks," she said, smiling.

"Thanks," Harry muttered and bit into the bread.

Ginny took a bite from her own croissant and looked out to the pitch thoughtfully. After she had swallowed, she said, "Hermione's always going on about practicing you for the question and answer portion."

"I know," Harry mumbled. "She nags a lot."

Ginny shrugged. "I nag you a lot, too—you know, for the dance."

Harry looked at her, and saw that she wasn't teasing. "You _know_ you're nagging me?"

"It just occurred to me last night." She smiled quickly. "You don't seem to mind too much, though."

"Yeah...I guess not," he said absently. And now that he thought about it, he really didn't mind it for some reason.

Ginny finished her croissant and dusted her hands. "So...I'll ask you a few questions, and you answer them. Remember that the judges will probably go for a very witty, intelligent answer. It always happens that way."

Harry knew he was barely witty. Being witty was something Ron was good at, not him. _The broomstick,_ Harry thought, wincing inwardly. But Harry nodded at Ginny anyway.

Ginny looked down on the books on her lap. She rubbed a finger back and forth across the spine of her battered _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four_. Then she asked, "Why did you join Miss Hogwarts?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. He thought it was obvious enough. "Well...for one thing, I was pushed—no, more like _encouraged_ by the Gryffindors to join."

Ginny rolled her eyes at the sarcasm. "You'd have to do it in a really witty, girly, sexy manner."

Harry blinked. "Sexy?"

Ginny nodded eagerly. "Say something like...like, 'The Gryffindors trust me so much that they _knew_ I should be here'. Then use your signature girl voice. Make it seductive, really seductive, and remember—it's supposed to be a _girl's_ voice."

Harry hesitated, shuddering inwardly. Harry's potion had turned his voice into a strong tenor, and he had sounded like Pavarotti, actually. But a seductive girl's voice? He didn't think anyone in the class was able to do it. It sounded impossible.

"But," Ginny went on, "don't start with innuendos and those things. The professors won't like it."

"Oh, I'll keep that in mind," Harry said.

"Well, go on, you can do it."

Harry never really considered himself "sexy" as a boy...and now he was supposed to act like a sexy girl. Good grief. How exactly did one become sexy?

He thought of the mannequins in Gladrags. Hands on hips, eyelashes batted. And the voice. Seductive, sexy, girl's voice. And it had to be...natural.

Out of impulse, Harry threw his shoulders back, placed a hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow at Ginny. "The Gryffindors have incredible faith on my wits and charms that they didn't have to think twice about putting me here onstage with you," he said in a husky woman's voice.

Ginny gasped, then broke into a grin. "Harry! That was _amazing_!"

Harry snorted. It seemed like he didn't need the Voice-Altering Potion, after all—he was a natural. Then he wondered why the thought of it wasn't uncomforting at all.

"Okay, how about this," Ginny said. "Umm...what is your greatest achievement so far?"

This time, Harry knew exactly what to do. He posed, titled his head on one side, "Being sexy enough to be chosen by my housemates for Miss Hogwarts," he said in the same voice.

Ginny threw her head back and laughed hard. "My goodness, Harry, that was _perfect_!" she exclaimed. "How did you do that?"

"It comes out naturally," Harry replied, grinning. He assumed a girl's voice again. "Next question, please."

Ginny pursed her lips as she shifted in place so that her legs were spread out on her side. Harry couldn't help but notice that the legs above her slightly worn-out socks were slender and creamy white. Then, catching himself, Harry looked away and stared hard at the pitch.

"Okay," Ginny said. She touched her chest dramatically. "What...is your deepest, _greatest_ desire?"

Harry straightened up all of a sudden and gaped at Ginny. He was sure he had heard that question before...but no, it wasn't a question...it was something Dumbledore had told him in his first year...

It was when Dumbledore found him gazing into the Mirror of Erised a few nights after Christmas. "The mirror shows nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts," the headmaster had told him.

Harry was silent for a long while. _What is your deepest, greatest desire?_ Oh, he knew the answer, all right.

Ginny let out a small gasp, as though she suddenly realized her tactlessness. "You don't have to answer it if you don't want to," she said guardedly.

Ginny's brows were furrowed in unease, but in a way that she seemed to be waiting for his answer nonetheless.

"A family," Harry said, his voice almost drowned by the sound of the wind.

When Harry looked back at Ginny's face, he saw an expression unlike the one he had quite expected. She didn't look at him with deep concern—like the one Hermione and some other people gave him whenever he talked about his parents, rare as those moments may be. Ginny didn't even look scared, as though she didn't know what to reply to what he had just said.

She just gazed back at him unflinchingly with those bright brown eyes, and that was all she had to do to let him know that she already knew, and that she understood completely.

After a moment, she smiled. Then, to Harry's surprise, she reached out and touched his hand. "You'll always have mine, you know."

Harry instantly felt a warm glow fill him from inside. How was he to know that Ginny, apart from being so sarcastically amusing, was also helpful, kind and sensitive? It showed in the strangest occasions, but they were there.

He smiled back at her. With nothing else left to say, he whispered, "Thanks."

Ginny smiled warmly, and nodded.

**_Jenna's Notes:_** _   
1.) "Ronald...move me." Now you know from where the dance is inspired. ;)   
2.) Chicken guts don't taste so bad, really.   
3.) I can't help but add something about OBHWF here, so... there.  
4.) Hey, this is fun - if anybody's interested to do a fanart for me, I'm an email away. :D   
5.) So how IS Harry going to get breasts? Find out in the next chapter..._


	7. Silicon Substitute

_**Warning: This chapter contains instances that might make you belch slugs.**_

**Miss Hogwarts**

_ Chapter Six  
Silicon Substitute_

Ginny Weasley was in a dilemma.

One and a half weeks before Halloween, Ginny began preparing for what Harry was going to wear in Miss Hogwarts. The costumes were complete, of course, and so were the shoes and accessories. But there was the matter of make-up.

And...some other things that were of utmost importance. Which was what she was worrying about that evening.

Ginny had been to the dormitory of the fifth-year girls countless of times since her second year, when Hermione became her friend. Both of them were usually surrounded by boys, and it was usually a great relief to talk to someone who wouldn't pull her hair or treat her like a little kid.

What's more, she was Ron's sister, and Hermione was one of Harry's best friends, and they always shared all the gory details they knew about the object of the other girl's desires. The boys never knew.

(Hermione had an advantage, though—Ginny's earliest memory of Ron was of him sitting on the potty, diaper-less and crying his heart out, after all.)

Ginny knocked on the door of the fifth-years' dormitory. It was opened by Parvati, who had something white pasted all over face.

"Hi, Ginny," Parvati said, opening the door a little wider. Then, apparently noticing Ginny's shocked stare, added, "It's just facial cream—sorry about that."

"Uh, no, don't worry about it," said Ginny, letting herself in.

Parvati went back to her bed, where Lavender was sitting. She picked up a magazine and handed it to Ginny. "Here," she said, smiling. "Harry can use it."

"Thanks!" Ginny said gratefully. She looked at the magazine—it was _Teen Witch_—and there was a picture of a made-up blonde girl on the cover, about nineteen years old. The list of articles was on the bottom of the cover: there were hair and make-up tips, "Five Ways on How to Turn Boys' Heads Your Way," and more.

_Harry_ can definitely use it.

Hermione was sitting on her own bed, poring over a piece of parchment. She smiled when she saw Ginny approach her. "Hi," Hermione said, motioning Ginny over.

"What are you reading?" Ginny asked.

"This?" Hermione handed her the parchment. "It's a draft of our letter to Hogsmeade Orphanage. We're going to enclose our donation there."

Ginny grinned. "This is really a marvelous idea, you know," she told her. "It's something new—and everyone will have a lot of fun."

"Glad you liked it." Hermione lowered her voice. "Actually, I was thinking of Ron going drag when I thought about it."

"No, you weren't!" Ginny gaped at Hermione, who only grinned mischievously. "And _you_ suggested it?"

Hermione laughed. "Sure I did."

"And all this time, Harry thought...it was Paul Arden."

"Paul?" Hermione laughed again. "No, not really. I gave out the suggestion and he sort of worked on the details. And hey—come on, Ginny, don't tell me you're not having a good time working with Harry."

"Yes, well..." Ginny smiled, remembering the past few days. "I'm having the time of my life."

Hermione winked. "Good."

Ginny smiled at Hermione. She was probably the only being in the whole of Hogwarts who had an idea of how Hermione Granger's brain _really_ worked. That was why Ginny came to Hermione first for an advice on...

Ginny started to fidget. "Actually...I came here to ask you something. For Miss Hogwarts."

Hermione knotted her forehead. "Yes?"

Ginny glanced at Lavender and Parvati. They were busily talking—about a certain boy, no doubt. "Well—since Harry has to look like a girl, he also have to have the body of a girl...right?"

"Uh...yes, of course."

"Er, well...I needed your advice. For Harry's...you know." Ginny glanced down.

Hermione stared—then, getting the notion, nodded in understanding. "Oh. Er—which one? Top or down?"

"Erm, both."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at Ginny. "What do you think?"

"Well, there's got to be a charm to keep his...um, thing back, right?" Ginny felt herself redden.

"I think so. But you can also...er, Spellotape it."

Ginny looked pained.

"Bad idea, I know," Hermione said, squinting. "Any other ideas?"

"I don't know...I was thinking of maybe doing something to his...his knickers—probably tighten them up or something."

In her mind's eye, Ginny saw herself do that certain something to Harry's knickers—with Harry wearing _only_ those. All the blood rushed to her face. Yes, she always had fantasies of Harry—but this was _way_ different, and _way_ too disturbing.

"Maybe," Hermione told her. "Besides, maybe it won't show much in his dress." She suddenly blushed as well—she probably pictured it in her mind, too.

"Right. Now, these." Ginny gestured on top of her chest.

Hermione looked at her own, which were unfortunately small mounds. She sighed most unhappily. "Too bad we haven't started human transfiguration yet—"

"Are you _mad_?" Ginny squealed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest. "You—you're going to give him _boo_—"

"Shush, Gin!" Hermione hissed, glancing at Lavender and Parvati, who had looked up at them when Ginny yelled.

"Sorry," Ginny whispered, "but you—you _can't_! Hermione, how _could_ you even think that?"

"I'm not going to!" Hermione insisted. "I still don't know how—and it could go horribly wrong!"

Ginny had a mental image of Harry heaving boulder-sized boobs that somehow grew on top of his chest. She cringed.

"What about cotton balls?" Hermione suggested.

"Bunch them up? They won't look realistic! I was thinking along the lines of water balloons."

"But that'd make it too bouncy!"

"I know," Ginny agreed. "And it would probably burst in the middle of the contest."

Hermione shook her head. "The balloons we can deal with—we can put a Reinforcement Charm on them. But our problem's with the water."

"Yeah," Ginny said, nodding. "Water's so liquid—it's not realistic, either."

"Yes. We have to put something else into the balloons." Hermione stood up and paced back and forth, as though Harry's breasts were a matter that needed profound contemplation. "The substance has to be more viscous than water—it should be thicker, so that the balloons can bounce properly...."

* * *

"Hey, Harry," Neville called. "Ginny's here."

Harry and Ron looked up in surprise. Ginny was standing by the doorway of their dormitory, carrying her backpack, smiling uneasily.

Ron scowled at his sister. "You're not allowed here," he said flatly as he unsuccessfully tried to shove all the dirty clothes on his bed away from view.

Ginny smirked and waved a piece of parchment. "I've got special permission from the prefect."

Ron's jaw dropped. "She can give _those_?" He held his hand out. "Give me."

Ginny walked into the room and handed Ron the parchment. She wrinkled her nose at the pathetic state of Ron's bed. "Honestly, Ron, you're giving all the house-elves a hard time."

Ron ignored her and read the parchment aloud for the others to hear. "'This is to let Ginny Weasley into the fifth-year boys' dormitory to assist Harry Potter in the preparations for the Miss Hogwarts contest. Signed, Hermione Granger, approved, Minerva McGonagall.'" Ron looked at Ginny suspiciously. "You're in cahoots with Hermione, aren't you?"

"Cahoots?" Ginny repeated.

"To be with Harry alone in here!"

"Ha ha." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Please. The intention is wholesome. Harry needs to fit something."

"But I've already fit the dresses in Gladrags," Harry stated dumbly.

Ginny shook her head. "It's something else," she said. He saw her cheeks turn pink.

"I can't believe she can just give these out," Ron muttered to himself, giving Ginny the permit back.

"Aren't you glad? She can give one to you too, so you can go to her room."

A look of gutter-minded comprehension spread across Ron's face. "Hey, you're right..."

Harry threw a pillow at Ron's face and gave him a dirty look. "Oh, get out of here."

"Okay, okay," Ron groaned, tossing the pillow back to Harry. "C'mon, Neville."

Neville was grinning at Harry and Ginny as he and Ron got out of the room—but not without Ron saying, "I want both of your clothes still on when I get back."

"You git," Harry yelled back. When Ron and Neville disappeared from view, he turned to Ginny. Her face was red as a ripe tomato.

"Something wrong?" asked Harry.

Ginny shook her head a bit too vigorously. "Er, Ron just said both of our clothes must still be on...and you're fitting, and...well..."

"Oh." Harry turned red as well.

Ginny walked towards the door and closed it shut, then locked it. Dirty thoughts started walking up and down Harry's head. "Er—so what'll I be fitting?" he asked in a squeaky voice.

"Oh—hang on a minute." Ginny set her bag down on Ron's bed and came up with something...lacy and _peach_. She held it out to him.

Harry stared at the brassiere. The first and only other bra he had seen in his entire life seemed to exist ages ago. He used to do the laundry in the Dursleys and Aunt Petunia once forgot to separate her bras from the rest of the clothes. Well, aside from that, there were those commercials, of course...

"Er," Harry said now, ever so oblivious.

Ginny smiled lopsidedly. "You have to have them for Miss Hogwarts, you know."

"Er...if you say so," Harry croaked. He hesitated, then took it in his shaking hands and looked at Ginny expectantly.

"Well, put them on," said Ginny.

Harry's mouth went dry. He had never removed his clothes in front of a girl before, not even in elementary. Talk about pathetic—Harry began to wonder if there were a lot more to life that he had missed.

Meanwhile, right in front of him, _right now,_ was Ginny Weasley, waiting for him to take off his clothes. She was only sitting on Ron's bed, biting her lips and raising her eyebrows, and yet his mind began to whirl with unwelcome thoughts. Ginny used to have a crush on him, after all...

_Bloody hell, are you man or not?_ a voice in his head screamed.

Harry inwardly winced. _Oh, what the hell._ Harry took off his robes. As he began to yank off his t-shirt, he discreetly glanced at Ginny. She looked _very_ interested at the door.

Harry now stood shirtless in front of Ginny. And, in his hands, was a bra. He started to wonder if it belonged to her—it wasn't too large, anyway, and it seemed to fit Ginny all right...

He tore his eyes off Ginny's chest and proceeded on jumping into the situation at hand. He supposed he had to put both arms into those straps, which he did. Then he was supposed to hook the thing on his back.

Now there was the problem. Try as he might, he couldn't hook the thing in place. "Um, Gin?"

Ginny, redder than Harry had ever seen her, looked up. "Yeah?" she squeaked.

"Uh—I can't seem to—"

"Oh, right—um, hang on," she stuttered as she stood up and approached him. If he had only known better, he'd say she was trying hard not to stare at his body.

"You put it the wrong way, Harry," she said now. "That's going to itch."

Harry looked down. She was right—all the lacy things were on his skin. He removed the bra and put it the right way.

"Right," said Ginny. She arranged the straps on his shoulders, lightly brushing his bare shoulders with her hands in the process.

Harry almost jumped in shock. Her touch had felt so much...so much like a white-hot brand pressed onto his skin. He felt her fingers again, this time on his back, and he shivered involuntarily. The white-hot sensation tunneled deep into his bones and rushed throughout his body, and he wouldn't be surprised if Ginny felt his skin grow warm.

But all too soon, Ginny had strapped the bra in place, and though he wanted so badly to feel her again, she now had both hands on her sides. Driving all thoughts away from what he had just experienced, he looked down at the thing placed carelessly around his chest.

"It...feels a bit loose," said Harry.

"Of course it does," Ginny said. She searched her bag again and came up with two red things.

Harry stared. "Water balloons?"

Ginny grinned at him. "Even better." She approached him and stood in front of him...very closely. "Um, do you mind?"

_Oh._ Harry suddenly understood what _exactly_ he would be fitting. "Er—no," Harry replied.

Ginny fit the water balloons into his chest. Her soft, warm fingers felt even more overwhelmingly incredible there. Sighing, watching her face intently, he let her slip the cold water balloons into the bra and fit them snugly.

"Does it feel okay?" Ginny asked weakly.

For a second, Harry had to think _which_ felt okay. "Um, good," he mumbled.

"You sure?"

Harry nodded slowly.

Ginny nodded as well. Then her gaze fell on something behind Harry—it was the full-length mirror in the room the boys fought constantly over since they realized girls existed on the planet. A grin spread across Ginny's face. "Well, well. Look at you."

Harry happened to be facing the mirror sideways at the moment. On the mirror was the same scrawny, bespectacled kid that had stared back at him for ages, only that his biceps had become a bit more distinct, and there were two large bumps on his chest under a peach bra. He swung sideways—the newly-acquired breasts swung with him.

"Hey, _cool_!" Harry exclaimed, amazed at what the water balloons accomplished. He walked towards the mirror, and the balloons bounced with every step. "Bit bouncy, aren't they?" he said, studying his chest.

Harry saw Ginny's image on the mirror slowly smile. "I thought boys like them bouncy."

Harry whirled around and stared at her, stunned.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I've got six elder brothers, you know, and five of them are perverts."

Of course, Harry would never, _ever_ tell Ginny (or any other girl, for that matter) what he and Ron had been discussing with Seamus, Dean and Neville whenever they were alone and out of earshot of any female. So it was a surprise to him that Ginny already knew.

"Oh yeah...how can I forget?" he joked lamely. He turned back to the mirror and watched the breasts move around. "So how did you come up with these...um, b-things?" He inwardly winced once more—he'd never get to say the word "boobs" aloud.

Ginny snorted. "B-things?" She laughed, shaking her head. "They're the ingenious ideas of your fellow Gryffindors put together."

"Really," Harry said absently. He wriggled his body and laughed as the breasts wriggled with him. He prodded the right one with a finger. So this was how it felt, being a girl—like having a heavy, bouncy, wriggly load on your chest all the time. They were probably painful when actually attached. Thankfully, no one had suggested transfiguring his chests to have breasts...he inwardly shuddered at the thought of how Roger Davies would feel.

He prodded the balloons a bit more, and soon realized that they weren't filled with water, after all. The water substitute felt thicker, heavier. Glancing around at Ginny, and seeing that her back was turned on him, he gave one of the balloons a squeeze.

Then he squeezed harder.

"I've brought your gown, and maybe we can fit it over those," Ginny was saying. "Now will you—DON'T SQUEEZE THAT THING!"

_POP._

Globs of a greenish-gray and sticky sort of stuff splattered everywhere—on Harry's body, his face and glasses, the mirror, and Seamus's trunk. Harry was unable to move for a while in shock.

"Harry, I haven't put a Reinforcement Charm on the balloons yet!" Ginny moaned.

Recovering, Harry removed his glasses and pulled the now-defeated balloon out of the bra. He attempted to wipe the substance off his cheeks, but the thing was stubbornly stuck on his skin. He was strongly reminded of the troll boogers that he had wiped off his wand in his first year, after tackling that troll in the girls' bathroom.

Harry stopped. _Troll boogers?_ He suddenly dreaded having to know what was the water substitute.

"What..._is_ this?" he asked anyway.

Ginny pursed her lips. Harry thought she looked as though she was suppressing an amused smile.

"Ever heard of Fred and George's Snot Balls?" she asked quietly.

Harry stared at her, mouth agape.

Ginny didn't try to hide her smile anymore. "Sorry," she said. "But girls don't squeeze their..._those_..._that_ hard...you know."

Harry looked back at her witheringly. So his boobs were made of snot. What an ingenious idea indeed.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, shaking his hand forcefully to rid it of the stuff his brand spanking new boobs were filled with.

**_Jenna's Notes:_** _ I guess one of the main points here is that Hermione is a bit more knowledgeable about...some things...than Harry and Ron had previously thought. Go, girl! Hah!_


	8. The First Rehearsal

_**Jenna's Notes:** Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for putting up with me these past few weeks. They were busy weeks in school (that's my excuse!). Big, BIG thanks to Kate, Alli, Sirena Black and Laurel Grey for the beta._

**Miss Hogwarts**

_Chapter Seven  
The First Rehearsal_

_"I think; therefore I am." –Rene Descartes_

"Stop that," Ginny chided Harry as she folded her arms across her chest impatiently. "You're making me dizzy."

Harry didn't stop pacing the stone floor in front of Ginny. They were standing right outside the Great Hall, waiting for the other contestants to arrive for the first rehearsal of Miss Hogwarts.

He glanced at his wristwatch. It was five minutes before eight. Ginny knew they were too early—and seemingly too excited, Harry had pointed out, but she had wanted to arrive before the others did.

"What are you so nervous about?" asked Ginny presently.

Harry stopped briefly to throw his hands in front of him. "This is the rehearsal, Ginny, and I don't even know how to walk, to pose, to—"

"That's why it's called a _rehearsal_, isn't it?" Ginny interrupted. "So that you can practice. Besides, you've almost perfected the dance, you answer questions really well—and let's not forget your really sexy voice."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her.

"I mean," Ginny added, suddenly realizing what she had just said, "your girl voice." _Real witty comment, Ginny Weasley,_ she scolded herself mentally as she fought to keep the blood that threatened to rise on her cheeks at bay.

Harry didn't seem to dwell on the comment though, thankfully. He started pacing again. Ginny decided not to stop him anymore, lest her mouth let out more tactless words. She leaned her back on the wall and put her hands in her pockets.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two figures coming towards them. She instantly recognized one of them as Roger Davies. His companion was petite and had long, dark hair...

"Oh, _crap_," Harry muttered. He quickly took the place beside Ginny and sank his hands deep into his pockets, too. And he had a good reason for hiding beside her, Ginny thought. She felt herself chewing the insides of her cheeks as the two Ravenclaw students approached.

Roger Davies's assistant was none other than Cho Chang.

"Hey, Potter," Roger said cheerfully. "Bit early, aren't we? Excited?"

"Not really," Harry said, squirming and looking down on his feet.

"I just sort of dragged him here early," Ginny finished for Harry to spare him the embarrassment.

"You'd be one of the Weasleys, right?" Roger asked her.

"Uh-huh."

"No one can miss the red hair," Roger confirmed.

Ginny rolled her eyes inwardly. What an original observation. "I'm Ginny," she said.

"Roger Davies, of course," Roger said. Ginny wanted to roll her eyes _badly_ this time. "And you know Cho Chang, don't you?"

"Sure," Ginny said, struggling to give Cho a warm grin. "Hi."

"Hi, Ginny," Cho said, giving her a small smile. "Hi, Harry."

"Hi," Harry said. Ginny noticed that his voice sounded like Trevor the Toad's croak.

Ginny caught Harry's eye and gave him a half-smile. Harry looked pitiable at that moment, indeed—he was practically red down to the neck. He reminded her of how it had been like when she was a little girl and her pathetic crush on him had made her put her elbow in the butter dish.

It suddenly struck Ginny that she didn't know—or rather, didn't _want_ to know—whether Harry still had a crush on the sixth-year Ravenclaw or not. It didn't matter much to her, really, that Harry was acting like a love-struck little boy right there. What mattered to Ginny was that Harry had chosen to stand beside her, and considered her as an ally at that moment.

Ginny leaned close to him and nudged him discreetly on the elbow. Harry let out a low growl.

Ginny then saw a couple of other people approaching. It was Hannah Abbott, with Justin Finch-Fletchey behind her. Justin looked as nervous as Harry. The two boys exchanged quick smiles.

Roger grinned at him. "Hey, Flushey—"

"Finch-_Fletchey_," Justin mumbled irritably.

"Oh, sorry," Roger said.

They all heard a flurry of voices coming. Hermione, Paul Arden, Betty Sparks and Eric Slevin were talking all at once.

"We're predicting two to three hundred Galleons of ticket sales—how could you say it isn't enough?" Hermione was asking Slevin heatedly.

"You didn't even _consult_ us!" Betty said, her face red.

"The _point_ is—"

Hermione cut Slevin off mid-sentence with a raise of her hand. She grinned at the six of them who were waiting outside the Great Hall, her expression suddenly changing. "Sorry about that," she said. "We just got the key from Mr. Filch."

"Where's Draco?" asked Slevin.

"He's not here yet," Hannah said.

"And don't expect him to arrive," Harry muttered.

Ginny nudged him again. Harry scowled.

Paul and Betty were opening the double doors of the Great Hall when, as if on cue, Malfoy arrived with Pansy Parkinson. Tonight, Malfoy did not have the mellow expression he had in their Potions classes. In fact, he was looking like the old Draco Malfoy—like the proud, sneering, pointy-faced git he always was.

As expected, Malfoy walked towards Harry and looked at him up and down. "Potter," he said, leering.

"You're a little late," Harry said coolly. "Can't face the fact that you're going drag?"

Malfoy's smirk widened. "That's what you think."

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. Malfoy must have noticed; he shot her a look and sneered in the manner only reserved for the Weasleys. He didn't say anything, though. When Pansy, wearing an arrogant, annoying scowl, tugged at Malfoy's robes, he threw them a last smirk and followed her into the Great Hall.

"By the looks of it, he's serious about the contest," Ginny muttered.

Harry looked at her. "Aren't we all?"

"Well, well." Ginny grinned. "Thank goodness. But what's wrong with him? You told me he was quiet in your classes. Now he seems to be back."

"You know," Harry replied, "I hate to wonder why."

Before Ginny could discern what Harry had said, they saw Roger and Cho follow the others.

"We'd better go," Ginny said. But after taking a few steps, Harry stopped her.

"Wait," Harry said, his hands closing on her wrist. One of his fingers rubbed on a sensitive spot on her skin.

Instantly, Ginny felt warm tingles creep across her arm. His touch always had that effect on her. Wasn't she the one who had let her own fingers slide on Harry's bare shoulders and back just a few days ago? She had loved the feeling; she had done it again and again, discreetly. It was a disconcerting thought, really, to realize that she had been savoring the smooth skin, the strong muscles beneath, and his soft breathing...

"What?" she finally asked weakly.

Harry was looking at the others, waiting for them to enter the Great Hall. "Something bothers me."

"What?" she asked again.

When Hermione and Betty got in, Harry released her wrist and put a hand on her back, urging her to follow. He leaned his face close to her ear. "It's Davies."

"Uh-huh." All the while she was aware of, and concentrating on Harry's breath on the side of her neck and the pressure of his hand on her lower back. It felt...good.

"He told me and Justin that the Ravenclaw girls were considering transfiguring his...his _chests_."

Ginny suddenly forgot about Harry's closeness to her as her jaw dropped open. "No!"

"Yeah, he told us just that. And it got me wondering whether it was Cho's idea or not."

Ginny pressed her hands over her mouth. Harry had the barest hint of an amused smile on his lips. Cho Chang? "You've got to be kidding," Ginny muttered to him. _Hermione had actually considered it, though,_ she almost added, but decided against it.

"Weird things, what you girls come up with," Harry said.

"If there's something you men will never understand, it's the way women's minds work," Ginny said in a slightly derisive note.

Harry looked at her face, searching it, as though considering her statement. "We'll see about that," he said after a while.

Ginny wondered what he meant by that for a few seconds. But mainly to keep her posture, she just shrugged as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Fine."

Harry stared at her for a while. She raised her eyebrows, and he looked away, looking flustered at himself.

Ginny let her eyes stray towards the others. The prefects, she saw, were again arguing heatedly. After a while, Hermione threw her hands up. "All right, fine," Ginny heard her snap at Slevin. "You'd better do a good job of convincing the others that what you did was the right thing."

Betty Sparks sighed and turned to her fellow Hufflepuffs. "Can you come over?"

Hermione nodded at Ginny and Harry. Glancing at each other questioningly, the two of them joined the prefects.

"Now that we're all here," Paul Arden began, glancing at Malfoy and Pansy pointedly, "we're just going to give out a couple of announcements, then we can start with the rehearsals.

"We'll meet here, same time, every night until Sunday. We'll have the dress rehearsals on Sunday night. If you want, you can just wear any dress—you know, so that what you'd be wearing on the contest itself would be a surprise to everyone.

"Next." Paul sighed heavily. "I'm not sure how you'd take this—it's really...well, the rest of us didn't expect this either."

Ginny saw Paul, Betty and Hermione roll their eyes towards Slevin.

"You see...er, the _Daily Prophet_ somehow got wind of the contest, and—"

Ginny's jaw dropped open. _"WHAT?"_ she exclaimed. Then she realized that she wasn't the only one who reacted in the same way.

"—Well, it's not entirely unexpected, since it's for the Hogsmeade Orphanage, and Gladrags is already a sponsor, but the _Prophet_ chose it to be worthy of the front page and gloss over the...er, details—"

"Who gave the information out?" Harry asked guardedly.

"Well." Paul looked at Slevin, who was silent throughout. "Eric will answer that for you."

They all turned to Slevin. _"You?"_ Cho asked in surprise.

"Not entirely," Slevin answered smoothly. "But yes."

"Well, _why_?" Cho asked.

"Because," Slevin said, eyeing Cho from head to foot, "the one who _actually_ sold the story to the _Prophet_ felt that what the school would be giving the orphanage isn't enough. Now if we publish the story in the Prophet, we can get last-minute sponsors and even ticket sales—"

"That's the daftest thing I've ever heard, Slevin," Ginny told him angrily. "From the very beginning, we made it clear that Miss Hogwarts is a _school_ activity. And we in Hogwarts are doing all that we can without much outside help."

"And besides," Cho added, nodding at Ginny, "didn't you even think of what people would _say_ when they learn about this? I mean—not all witches and wizards are...are _enlightened_!"

Ginny had a mental image of her mother falling off her chair when she saw Harry on the front page of the _Prophet_, wearing a blonde wig and a blue dress, and doing That Wave. She could hear the Howler in her head, shrieking—_"Virginia Weasley, you have half the mind to put that dress on Harry—what were you thinking, ruining his dignity—!"_

As though thinking of the same thing, Harry began massaging his temples grimly. Ginny could hear him mutter something very, very rude that went along with the line "bloody cunning Slytherin."

The poor guy. Harry Potter, Seeker extraordinaire, Lord Voldemort's bane, certified Parseltongue, The Boy Who Lived to be Hounded by the Press.

"So you mean you didn't know about this?" Hannah Abbott asked the other three prefects.

"No," Betty replied. "Until tonight."

Ginny turned to Slevin. "Who _exactly_ sold the news to the _Prophet_?"

"That," Slevin said, "is a secret."

Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration. "Look here," she told them all, "this won't stop us from doing what we want to do for Miss Hogwarts. Even if we get complaints from outside, the thing is that we're doing this for the sake of the orphanage, and that Dumbledore has approved of this project. All right?"

_Go girl,_ Ginny thought. She and Harry nodded their assent.

"Very well," Paul sighed. "I think we'd better get started. Up there, please." He motioned to the platform where the professors' table was—or rather, had been. It was gone now.

A grinning Roger Davies led the way. Which made Harry wince.

"If Ron and I hadn't seen him and Fleur Delacour in the bushes last Yule Ball, I'd say he's swinging both ways," Harry muttered.

Ginny gave him a disgusted look. "You and Ron..."

"Were not doing anything," Harry finished.

"Of course you weren't!" Ginny exclaimed. "Urgh, Harry, I was going to say that you and Ron were...well, really disgusting for sneaking up on them."

"We didn't mean to!" Harry protested. "We were just at the wrong place at the wrong time!"

"Potter," Paul called.

"Right." He gave Ginny a slight nudge. "Later."

Ginny watched Harry walk towards the stage, slumped-shouldered and all. "Break a leg, Harriet," she called.

"Harriet," Harry, whirling around, repeated in revulsion.

"Up, Potter, if you please..."

* * *

For the rest of the night, the four contestants rehearsed the blocking for the different segments of Miss Hogwarts—the entrance, the talent portion, the question-and-answer, the final walk, and the intermissions between.

It would have been really entertaining, Ginny mused, if Harry hadn't been too halfhearted in strutting onstage. If Justin was trying really hard, and Roger was practically at his paramount genius, and Malfoy—oh, God help us all, _Malfoy_ was actually _swaying_ his _hips_—Harry was watching them apprehensively, moving as though his joints were not oiled for a long, long time.

They were now starting to practice the opening, in which they had to dance for a short while. Ginny had thought Harry was all right with dancing after all his practices with Ron, but watching him now, it was as though they were back at square one.

Maybe it was all because of Ron.

"I know what you're thinking," Hermione said, scooting over. "He's..._bad_, isn't he?"

"Try harder."

"Ginny." Hermione gave her a shove. "Where's your unwavering optimism?"

"I was kidding," Ginny told her. "We can work on this." She paused. "I hope."

Ginny and Hermione watched Harry attempt an arm movement while he was turning around to the music. Ginny sighed. Yes, they could work on this—within thirty-five years.

"I think he just needs a bit more pushing. You know, to really work on winning."

"He knows he should win," Ginny told Hermione. "Maybe he just feels a bit awkward around them. Especially since Malfoy...well."

Malfoy, on Betty's cue, pranced towards the front of the stage and put his hands on his hips in one graceful, girlish sweep.

Ginny felt the hair on her arms stand on end. "See what I mean?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, squinting at Malfoy.

More dancing. Then Justin moved to the front and did basically what Malfoy did, although a bit gawkily.

"Malfoy might well be Harry's worst rival...again," Hermione said.

"I'm not surprised."

After another few seconds of dancing, Harry went up front, shaking slightly at his attempt to be graceful. He gave a grin towards Ginny and Hermione's direction.

The two girls grinned back in what Ginny hoped was an encouraging manner.

When Harry went back to his place, Malfoy smirked at him, obviously elated at Harry's show of talent—and the lack of it.

Finally, Roger's burly figure strutted at front and gave them all a full wave, moving his wrists ever so elegantly that he seemed not to have one.

_Swinging both ways?_ "What _is_ wrong with him?" Ginny asked aloud.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, obviously he's the only one among the four of them who thinks dressing in drag is the coolest thing in the world. Something to do with age, I don't know."

Cho, who was watching from a few feet beside Ginny, positively grinned at Roger and gave him a thumbs-up.

Clearly, apart from being excited about Miss Hogwarts, Roger Davies had a good coach. _Where did you go wrong?_ Ginny asked herself.

"Okay, that will be all for now," Paul suddenly announced, snapping Ginny out of her thoughts. "Tomorrow, same time, all right?"

Hermione touched Ginny's arm briefly and joined the other prefects. Harry, meanwhile, lamely hopped off the stage and joined Ginny, muttering. "Crap, crap, utter bloody crap."

"Don't take tonight so seriously, Harry," Ginny tried to say, with great effort. "You'll be great in the contest itself—just...be _into_ it, remember that."

"Great. I could have used that advice a while ago."

"You sure could have, Potter," said a voice behind them.

Ginny and Harry rolled their eyes and turned around together to face Malfoy. Apart from being a good cross-dresser (Ginny had assumed that when she saw him strutting onstage), Malfoy also had a talent of sneaking up behind people to annoy them—particularly if the target was Harry.

"If you want advice," Malfoy went on, snickering sardonically, "I suggest you warm yourself up a bit to stop your teeth from chattering onstage."

Hermione, apparently seeing another battle of wits ensuing, joined them. "And I suggest you stop looking so big-headed after showing off," she told Malfoy. "You haven't seen the best of Harry yet."

Harry shot Hermione a slightly embarrassed look, which he immediately changed to one of loathing when he looked back at Malfoy.

"After what he did today?" Malfoy smirked. "I don't think so."

Hermione let out an irritated huff. "Don't you _ever_ stop smirking?"

"I smirk; therefore I am," Malfoy replied, smirking.

"Oh, ha ha, very witty," Hermione told him witheringly. "I didn't know you read Muggle literature."

Malfoy wasn't easily beaten. "Granger, I'm only trying to be on the level of a Mudblood."

Harry and Hermione looked ready to pounce on him when Ginny said lazily, "The rehearsal's _over_, Malfoy. You can stop being a bitch."

Harry and Hermione gawked at Ginny—but they didn't linger for too long, for all the blood had rushed to Malfoy's face as he glowered at Ginny and began walking towards her menacingly. He wasn't angry; he was irate. "You stupid little _brat_—"

"Hey, _hey_!" Harry roared—and, to Ginny's surprise, stepped in front of her to block her from Malfoy's view. Harry then grabbed her arms from behind...protectively, Ginny realized. "What d'you think you're trying to do?"

"Get out of my sight, Potter," Malfoy spat, still keeping a fuming eye on Ginny. Ginny glared back at him, but she was fully conscious of Harry's proximity.

_"Move,"_ Harry spat back at Malfoy.

The two boys glared at each other, as they always had in their five years of stay in Hogwarts. Harry didn't budge. Since Ginny was so close to him, she could actually feel him trembling with anger. The feeling of fear began to diminish. She began to feel..._flattered_...at Harry's concern.

Malfoy turned his glare to Ginny. "You'll have a time with me, _Weasley_," he told her, his voice filled with disgust at her last name. "Remember that."

"Great." Ginny returned his earlier smirk and shrugged. "I'll be waiting."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. Then he stomped away, still red-faced.

Pansy, who had been watching behind Malfoy, scowled at Ginny. "I'd be really scared if I were you," Pansy told her menacingly.

As Pansy followed Malfoy out of the Great Hall, Ginny wondered if she had used the word "bitch" on the wrong person.

Ginny heard Harry let out a sigh. Whirling around, he faced her and looked at her pointedly. "You shouldn't have said that."

"He's a prat," Ginny stated simply.

"He could have hurt you, you know."

Ginny couldn't stop herself from blushing. "Why, thank you," she tried to say lightly, keeping her voice level.

_You're overreacting,_ a voice in her head told her. _He's just concerned because..._

_Because... what?_ Ginny shot back. _Because I'm his friend? Isn't that what you want?_

_What YOU want?_ The voice let out a grim chuckle. _You don't want to be just his _ friend_, Ginny Weasley._

_You... of course I do! I'm happy we're close, and—_

_Sure you are,_ the voice interrupted. _But thanks to this contest, which unwittingly threw you on each other's laps, you're starting to wait for something more! And because of that, you're interpreting all of Harry's actions towards you as though they mean a lot more than they seem—_

_Look, shut _up_, whatever you are. God, what am I doing? I'm talking to myself!_

The voice didn't answer.

All of this happened in a second. When Ginny snapped out of it, she saw Harry giving her a strange look. Ginny felt herself blush harder—the way he looked at her gave her the impression that Harry could hear the exchange inside her head.

"I think we'd better go," Hermione said quietly.

Harry jumped slightly. "Oh...right." He cocked his head slightly at Ginny. "Come on."

As the three of them headed out of the Great Hall, Hermione gave them both curious glances. She looked at Ginny and raised her eyebrows, half-questioningly, half-cheerfully. Ginny knew exactly what she was getting at. Wasn't Hermione the one who had jumped in on the opportunity for Ginny to be with Harry in the first place?

And yet, the voice in her head made sense all of a sudden. All of this—the whole Miss Hogwarts contest, the Gryffindors choosing Harry to be the contestant, Ginny persuading him to join and then becoming his assistant—seemed to have happened... just for her. Or at least it seemed to, if she chose to look at it _that_ way. If it weren't for Miss Hogwarts, she and Harry wouldn't have become friends, would they? Harry wouldn't have even started to _see_ her, would he?

She didn't know what to make of it. She knew she was waiting for something like this to happen from the night she had agreed to be his assistant... and knowing that she was so close to getting _that_ something scared her—because of its suddenness, of its surreal quality.

But it all brought her back to the original question. Was there, really, something that she should be waiting for? Had Harry somehow—in the course of preparing for Miss Hogwarts—learned to—

"Hermione," Harry started to say. They were already ascending the steps towards Gryffindor Tower.

"Hmm?"

"You—you go ahead. I need to talk to Ginny."

Ginny's heart took a sudden leap. It was a while before it returned to its usual place.

"Oh...all right." Hermione flashed Ginny the subtlest of knowing smiles. "Good night, then."

"Good night," Ginny and Harry both said.

Hermione continued to climb the stairs, leaving Ginny and Harry behind. Ginny felt her hands sweat—she quickly hid them in her pockets, for she was quite sure they were shaking too. She couldn't look up at Harry. What was happening? Was he going to...?

Harry was looking at her face. "Sorry for holding you up."

Ginny discreetly took a deep breath. "It's okay," she said. Her voice was even. Her acting skills amazed her.

"Well..." Harry looked a little embarrassed. "About a while ago."

The world, Ginny was quite sure, had stopped spinning on its axis. She didn't say anything.

"Don't you—don't you think—I was the...the worst among the four of us?"

_Oh._

The voice in Ginny's head began to laugh maniacally. It seemed as though she was in a bad comedy show she often heard in WWN, and a worse sound effect taunted her for expecting too much. She suddenly felt like a world-class idiot. So much for her fantasies of Harry kissing her on the stairs, against the wall.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

"You were good," Ginny said. This time, her voice was flat, disappointed. She started to sprint up the stairs. "Don't worry too much."

"No, wait," Harry insisted, keeping up with her. "They're really good, you know."

"I know." Ginny pretended to stifle a yawn. "We'll continue practicing, okay? We have a whole weekend. Don't worry."

Ginny had reached the top of the stairs when Harry stepped in front of her and took hold of her arms. He leaned down so that his eyes were level with hers. Ginny stared back at him, her heart suddenly beating madly against her chest, seeing her shocked face reflected on the lenses of his glasses.

"Listen," Harry whispered. All the nerve endings on Ginny's face were well aware of how excruciatingly wonderful his warm breath fanning her cheeks and lips felt.

Maybe this wasn't so bad...

Harry went on. "I know I'm already doing my part for the orphanage, but we still have to win the two hundred House points. The others are really good. I'm nothing even if I've perfected the dance and the question-and-answer—and for all we know, they're already doing better than me in those things."

Ginny didn't trust herself to speak. She knew that if she did, she would only stutter.

_"Please,"_ Harry said forcefully. "Let's do this really well. If—if I have the time between classes, and you do too, and right after rehearsals—let's meet anywhere to practice. I really _have_ to do this."

The implication of what Harry had said—especially since his face was only inches from hers—made Ginny smile. "You know what?" she whispered.

"What?"

"I never dreamed of the day you'd be extremely serious about this business."

Harry stared at her. Then he began to smile as well. "Actually...me neither."

As he spoke, Ginny's eyes started to fall on his lips. They were really...soft-looking, and thin...she suddenly wanted to feel what they were like...and almost unconsciously, her lips began swimming towards them....

However, a sane part of her mind took over, and pulled her away from him. "I'm really sleepy," she said, but the words weren't hers. "Maybe tomorrow?"

Harry's eyes were unreadable behind his glasses as he gazed at her for what seemed like ages. Was he reading her mind? Was he thinking the same?

"Okay," he whispered finally.

Ginny nodded. She needed to get away from Harry, to think. Just think. And make sense of it all.

"Okay," she said. Then she tore her eyes off Harry's, gave the password to the Fat Lady, and accidentally knocked her forehead on the wall as she climbed into the portrait hole.


	9. On Stiletto Heels

**Miss Hogwarts**

_Chapter Eight  
On Stiletto Heels_

Early on Saturday morning, Hermione sent Hedwig to her parents, asking them to send back the gown she had used last Yule Ball as well as a set of her father's clothes. It had embarrassed Ron, to put it mildly, when he learned that _he_ was going to wear Hermione's dad's clothes for the dance number with Harry. Hedwig had come back from the Burrow the night before with an old pair of Bill's dragonhide boots, which Ginny had sent for.

Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the rest of the morning eating marmalade on toast and tea at Hagrid's. Even there, the subject of Miss Hogwarts never ceased to come up—Hagrid in particular sounded most amused.

A grinning Hagrid was pouring them tea into the huge mugs he had. "How're the rehearsals gettin' along?" he asked Harry.

"Okay, I guess," Harry said. "I'm getting the hang of it."

Which was true. After his embarrassing performance in the first rehearsal, he had improved. Thanks to Ginny and her relentless coaching.

_Ginny._

Ron was saying something that was meant to tease Harry, but Harry barely heard him. In his mind's eye, a freckly fourth-year girl with gorgeous red hair was staring at him wide-eyed as he spoke to her. Then her face was suddenly so very close to his, and the dim light from the torch there on top of the stairs leading to Gryffindor Tower was illuminating her seemingly dazed face—

"Harry? _Harry._"

"Huh?" Harry straightened up. "Oh. You were saying?" He hurriedly downed his tea.

Hagrid, Hermione and Ron were looking at him as though he was telling them that he was going to snap his wand in half and live his life as a hermit in the Dursleys's cupboard.

"Your cheeks are pink," Ron told him.

Harry could feel his cheeks getting even hotter. He ducked his head, pretending to pour himself another cup of tea, and tried to throw the embarrassment back at Ron. "Why do you notice the most personal things, Ron?"

Hermione choked on her tea. _"Harry!"_

"You'd better keep an eye on him, Hermione."

Ron punched Harry's biceps. "I am _not_ attracted to you, if that's what you're getting at!"

Harry rubbed the spot where Ron had punched him. "Then stop _touching_ me!"

Hagrid was shaking in laughter, but Harry could plainly see that Hagrid's black eyes were glittering knowingly into his direction. Harry tried to shrug, as though asking him what the matter was, but Hagrid simply stood up to gather the dirty plates.

"I'm gatherin' the pumpkins on Tuesday," he announced. "Fer Halloween. Miss Hogwarts is still on Halloween, yeh know."

Harry suddenly realized why the prefects scheduled Miss Hogwarts to coincide with Halloween: the sight of the boys in wigs and gowns was scarier than the most hideous vampire in Transylvania. He almost voiced his thoughts aloud to Hermione, but she was standing up gleefully.

"Can we look at them?" she asked Hagrid.

"I was goin' to ask yeh that," Hagrid said. "Come along, then."

Hagrid led them to his backyard, where his gigantic pumpkins were. Back in his second year he saw a dozen of them, but now there were a dozen more.

Hermione was rolling up her sleeves as she stood in front of the largest pumpkin. "Look at this, Ron. Doesn't it look great?"

"Would make a great lantern," Ron agreed.

"_No_, Ron. This is probably enough to make pumpkin pies for the whole of Gryffindor on Halloween."

"It's not enough," Ron argued. "Besides, aren't you a bit tired of pumpkin pies every Halloween? It's like...sausages and eggs every morning."

"Yes, I am," huffed Hermione. "That's why I said it's probably enough for the whole of Gryffindor—"

Harry watched in amusement as Ron and Hermione bickered, laughed, and basically scrutinized the pumpkin. Hagrid made no move to interrupt them, which was good, Harry thought.

Hagrid bent down towards the pumpkin right beside Harry. "Yeh okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Of course." Harry bent his knees so that he was in a sitting position beside Hagrid, who had pulled out a piece of cloth and was now wiping the surface of the pumpkin. "Why?"

Hagrid's eyes twinkled. "That look on yer face a while ago—it sort o' looked familiar, if yeh asked me."

Wonderful. Even Hagrid was noticing. "What do you mean?" he tried to ask nonchalantly.

"Yeh know very well what I mean, Harry."

Hagrid was smiling at Ron and Hermione. He had a far-off, bittersweet look on his face. Harry had the impression that Hagrid was thinking of Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy.

"Remember what I told yeh some years ago, abou' how li'l Ginny Weasley came here and looked at the pumpkins?"

Harry felt himself turn red again. Oh, damn it. Was he being too obvious? How did Hagrid _know_?

"Comes here fairly often," Hagrid went on. "Asks me how I'm doin'. I always tease her o' course." He let out a chuckle at Harry's dumbstruck expression. "Now I see yeh blushing, and yeh just reminded me o' her."

"So you're saying we're beginning to look alike?"

"Nah," said Hagrid. He proceeded to dust another pumpkin. "Yeh just...I dunno. Sort o' look like her when we talk abou' yeh, I think."

Harry sighed. Hagrid was probably talking about those days when Ginny...well, when she had a crush on him. Which was, as far as Harry was concerned, over and done with. Now Ginny acted like a friend of his—which he was grateful and happy for, of course.

But it seemed as though some sort of karma was playing a joke on him now. For four years he had practically ignored her, and now...only a few weeks after spending so much time with her...he had seen her more clearly, inside and out. And now he was—he couldn't help but admit it—_he_ was...he _was_—

"Oh, hey!" Harry suddenly said, standing up, "I've got to meet Ginny right now!"

"Huh?" Ron and Hermione looked up at the same time. "Where are you going?"

"Gryffindor Tower," Harry said. "More practice."

"You're spending too much time with my sister," Ron remarked suspiciously.

"Oh, leave them alone," Hermione said, waving him off. "He needs to win Miss Hogwarts, remember?"

"Yeah, he does," Hagrid agreed, nodding. He winked at Harry. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Hagrid," said Harry. "See you later."

Harry picked up his bag inside Hagrid's hut, then ran flat out across the grounds. He wasn't sure why he was in such a hurry—if he was excited to see Ginny, or afraid to hear a reprimand coming from her.

After a record-breaking ten minutes, he reached their dormitory. Ginny was already there, sitting by the door with a book open on her lap, smiling up at him.

Harry leaned on the wall, panting. "Hey," he gasped. "You done with homework?"

"Just finished. You all right?" she asked. Her forehead knotted worriedly.

"Yeah—just let me catch my breath—"

Ginny slid her book into her backpack. Harry noticed that it was the book Hermione had from fourth-year Arithmancy, although Ginny's copy was more battered. Ginny then took out a magazine with a pretty blonde gracing the cover.

Ginny saw him looking at it. She held it up. "_Teen Witch_," she said. "Parvati lent it to me. It's very helpful."

Harry doubted it. He opened the door to their dormitory anyway, and held out a hand to help Ginny up.

Ginny took his hand and pulled herself up. Then, all to suddenly, he felt a slight shiver run up his arm. Her hand was soft, softer than he had imagined—and it had felt _great_.

He must have held her hand too long. Ginny grinned at him in a way he couldn't make out, then pulled her hand out of his.

_Smooth, Potter,_ Harry told himself sarcastically. He opened the door a little wider to let Ginny in. Then, when she had thrown her things on Ron's bed, he closed the door.

They were alone again.

Ginny flipped open the magazine and approached Harry. "Ready for new lessons?"

Something in the tone of Ginny's voice made him think that what she was going to teach was interesting—for her only. "I think so," said Harry.

"Well, here it is." She handed Harry the magazine.

Harry looked at the title of the article. "'Be Bewitching: Five Ways to Turn Boys' Heads Your Way'," he said aloud. Then he looked at Ginny warily. "I have a feeling I'm not going to enjoy this lesson."

"Oh, don't be silly," said Ginny, grinning widely. "You will."

* * *

**_1. Use your lips. Pout. Smile._**

"Your mouth must be slightly open," Ginny told Harry. Ginny put her thumb sideways between her front teeth, then removed it without closing her mouth. She put a hand on her waist and smiled, showing off her teeth.

He had to admit that it looked pretty on her.

"Smile with your mouth open," Harry confirmed doubtfully.

"Come on, it will work! Try it."

Harry attempted to imitate her. He bit his thumb, removed his hand, then smiled.

"It's like you're asking me whether you look okay," Ginny commented. "_Smile_, Harry. You're in front of an _audience_. Be a _girl_."

Harry tried again. _Be a girl,_ he reminded himself. He smiled again, and added a flutter of eyelashes for good measure.

"Oh, I _love_ it, Harry," Ginny said. "Now, how about a mysterious, seductive smile?"

"How's that?" Harry asked.

"Well..." For a while, Ginny looked doubtful. Then she turned her head sideways, letting her hair fall on her sides, and gave him a half-smile. Her eyes, visible between the vivid strands of her hair, were ardent, beckoning.

She looked so seductive that Harry had to swallow his heart back to his chest.

"Got it?"

"I...think so," Harry stuttered.

"Just think about...you know, seducing the audience." Ginny chuckled.

Seducing the audience with his smile. All right, now that wasn't so hard. He had an audience right now after all, and it was Ginny...

Almost involuntarily, he gave her a half-smile.

"Harry, that smile was one for the girls," Ginny said flatly.

"Oh."

If Harry had looked harder, he would have seen Ginny swallowing in the way he had.

**_2. Toss your head. Show off your hair._**

"You know I _hate_ this thing," Harry said, holding the blonde wig.

"It'll look great on you," Ginny assured him. She pulled a chair in front of her. "Come here."

Reluctantly, Harry sat on the chair.

"Hold still now."

Ginny placed the wig on Harry's head. Then he felt something sharp—a hairpin—being stuck into his hair—

"AAAAARGH!"

"Sorry, sorry...I'm trying to do it as painlessly as I can—"

After a long minute, the wig was in place. "Better?" asked Ginny.

"Not really," said Harry, wincing at the pins that seemed to be drilling little holes through his skull. "But I can manage. So I'll just...toss my head like that?"

"And show off your hair."

_How can anyone show off this hair?_ he wondered. But he obliged, anyway. He turned his back on Ginny, then whirled around, flipping his head so that the wig was tossed from one side of his head to another. Then he gave Ginny the open-mouthed smile.

"Oh my goodness," Ginny said, shaking her head in wonder. "Why didn't I show this magazine to you a long time ago?"

**_3. Look vivacious. Boys love girls who are full of life._**

"We do?"

"Apparently, you do," Ginny replied, grinning. "So remember, look really lively. Stifle your yawns, and look like you're really enjoying the show."

"That sounds impossible."

"Oh, come on, you _have_ to!" Ginny insisted. "Just...try to imagine that you've already won, and you're showing off to Malfoy."

Harry grinned. "I can do that," he said. He tossed his head again so that his wig flipped around. He wrinkled his nose and put his hand on his hips. "You'll eat your words, Malfoy," he said in his girl voice.

Ginny's laughter rung beautifully in the room. "Harry, you're _going_ to win," she told him, beaming. Then she winked. "Malfoy _will_ eat his words, I swear."

**_4. Walk with your chin up, looking the world in the face._**

Ginny looked doubtful as she read the instructions.

"Something wrong?" asked Harry.

"Oh, I don't know," Ginny said. "I don't think I can manage what this article's asking, let alone teach you."

"Want to bet?" Harry asked.

Ginny stared at him, then rolled her eyes as she stood up. "Well, it says to keep your feet in line...like this..."

Harry watched Ginny as she demonstrated The Walk. She went to the other side of the room so that she was facing him. She threw her shoulders back, lifted her chin, gave him a half-smile, and walked towards him.

Harry stared at her, as though he trying to process all that she was trying to show him, but eventually all he could do was to admire her gait. His eyes fell down to her legs, slender and eye-catching. Why did the girls have to wear short skirts? Come to think of it, though, it was a good thing, especially on Ginny...

When Ginny reached him, she sighed and slumped her shoulders. "It wasn't perfect, but maybe you can do better."

"I thought you were great," Harry blurted out. He suddenly felt stupid for saying so.

Ginny gave him a small smile. "Try it, now. Face that mirror. I'll walk with you."

Harry went to Neville's part of the dormitory so that he was at a distance from the full-length mirror near Seamus's bed. Ginny stood by him, then walked towards the mirror. Harry traced her footsteps—then, after getting the hang of it, he looked up at his own reflection.

He was good at this, he realized. When he was directly in front of the mirror, he did a twirl, placed both hands on his waist elegantly, and smiled.

It was plain in Ginny's smile that he had done well.

**_5. Most of all, do all of these naturally._**

Ginny closed the magazine and shook her head in impressed disbelief. "You know what?"

"What?"

Her brown eyes were glittering as she looked up at Harry. Then, to his utter surprise, she threw her arms around his waist and embraced him from his side.

"I don't think I have to teach you anything," she said, her cheeks pressed against his shoulder. "You're a natural. In the contest, just do what you did just now and you'll be all right."

Harry didn't hear what she had said. In fact, all thoughts of Miss Hogwarts—and everything else—had flown out of his mind in an instant. He was concentrating on how good she smelled, how pliant she felt, and how wonderful it would be if she could hold him like this for a long, long time.

She did.

* * *

"Hermione," Harry said in a tight voice.

"Yes?"

"Why—ow, Ginny!—why do you have such—a—AGH!—small—_waist_?"

Ginny, Hermione and Ron chuckled in unison. "Just hold still," Ginny told him from behind. She took out her wand and pointed it on Hermione's periwinkle ball gown. _"Expandere."_

Ginny heard Harry let out the air he seemed to have been holding for a long time. She had used the Expanding Charm to widen Hermione's gown on his waist. She would fix it back later. "Does it fit all right now?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry said.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were hidden inside the curtains Hermione had conjured for Harry to fit her gown in. When Harry found that he couldn't put the gown on himself, like many other paraphernalia for women, he had called them for help.

They had all agreed that Harry should wear Hermione's gown and stiletto heels (which Ginny also had to enlarge) on the dress rehearsal on Sunday night. The surprise would be ruined if the other contestants got an early glimpse of "Harry's beauty in that green gown," as Ginny had put it.

No, he wasn't wearing the snot balloons yet.

Hermione had let Ron come with them on that last rehearsal, so that he could get the feel of the contest, which was two days away. Ron hadn't shown any signs of nerves yet, thankfully.

Harry had pointed out that it could be a bad sign.

"Come on now, everyone," Hermione called them, peeking out of the curtains. "They're ready."

Ginny shoved Harry's robes into her bag. Hermione gave her wand a wave. The curtains disappeared, and they suddenly had a view of the other contestants.

Justin was wearing a peach gown that looked too short for him. He looked extremely uncomfortable. Roger, meanwhile, had on a slinky fuchsia gown that showed off his bulky muscles horribly. The sight was painful to the eyes.

Malfoy was in a glittering light blue gown, just a degree lighter than Hermione's. His silvery hair was lengthened so that it reached straight down to his waist. And—Ginny's eyes widened—he had on...

Ron was gawping at Malfoy. "Are those..._water balloons_?"

Ginny's first thought was that Malfoy would be too embarrassed to approach them, sneer and all, but she found that she underestimated him. Comical as it looked, Malfoy swaggered towards them, his chests heaving. Too liquid, Ginny thought. Obviously, they were indeed made of water.

Ginny and Hermione had to hide behind Ron and Harry to smother their giggles.

"You look _beautiful_, Malfoy," said Ron in a strangled voice that indicated that he was also preventing himself from laughing.

"You're looking good, too, Weasel," Malfoy said, turning up his nose. "Are those new robes? What did you do to afford it, sell your house?"

Malfoy would have passed very well for a stereotyped uptown girl, Ginny thought. Blonde, pretty, bitchy, stuck-up and everything else.

"I hope you paid heed to my advice, Potter," said Malfoy.

"I don't need it," Harry replied calmly. "I'm perfectly okay without it."

Malfoy smirked. "We'll see about that."

Ginny watched Malfoy swagger towards the stage, where Pansy was waiting. Harry was glaring at him.

"I'd like to see those water balloons burst on his face onstage," Ginny declared. "Just hope he didn't put a Reinforcement Charm on them."

Harry leaned close to Ginny's ear. "Watch me," he murmured.

Not taking his eyes off Malfoy, Harry followed him, and although he was in stiletto heels and a ball gown, he was still walking in his usual boyish gait—large steps, slumped shoulders, slightly swinging arms. To Ginny's amusement, he didn't seem to have any problems with the high heels.

"He's too cute," Ginny muttered.

Ron looked at her. "Who, Malfoy?"

Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes at him. "Ron," Ginny said pointedly, "I'm seriously doubting your preferences."

The first part of the dress rehearsal was, of course, the entrance. Ginny had watched the boys do it for almost a week now, but it was different when they were all wearing gowns.

The music started. Harry, Justin, Roger and Malfoy began to dance onstage. Harry, she noticed, was at his element. He seemed to have learned a _lot_ in their lessons yesterday morning. And when he did the open-mouthed smile, Ginny had opened her mouth in shocked amusement, and Ron had exclaimed "bloody hell."

But something was wrong.

It took a while for Ginny to point out what the problem was. Harry seemed to feel uncomfortable in his gown. And he seemed to be showing off, especially to Malfoy at his side, instead of really enjoying the experience. She made a mental note to tell Harry about it later.

Hermione and Betty were calling out cues for them. "All right, Draco," Betty called. "Front!"

Malfoy began to prance towards the front—but all of a sudden, he tripped on something...and fell facedown on the stage with two sounds, one of which Ginny was already well-acquainted with: _thud_ and _pop_.

Everyone in the Great Hall heard Malfoy let out a very rude exclamation. He stood up, and everyone was in plain sight of a dark, rapidly expanding stain on Malfoy's chest.

"POTTER!" Malfoy shouted, jabbing a finger towards Harry. "HE TRIPPED ME!"

If Harry hadn't whispered something to Ginny before he went onstage, she would have believed he was innocent. "I didn't do anything," he said lightly. His face was straight.

"YOU—!" An endless string of cuss words came out of Malfoy's mouth as he reached for something inside his gown and threw in on the stage. It was something blue. One of the discarded balloons.

"Why," Ginny heard Cho ask aloud, "is he wearing _water balloons_ on rehearsals?"

"Always use Reinforcement Charms, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, grinning widely.

Justin and Roger were laughing so hard on the other side of the stage that they were clutching their stomachs. Malfoy, looking murderous, stormed down the stage and snatched his wand from a shocked Pansy.

As Malfoy placed a Drying Charm on his gown, a grinning Harry called out: "Constant vigilance, Malfoy, what can I say?"

Ginny caught Harry wink at her very discreetly. She was laughing so hard now that she had to grip Ron's arm to prevent herself from falling.

* * *

Harry met Ginny right after the rehearsal. Sitting on the stage with her feet dangling towards the floor, she grinned at him mischievously as he approached her, but refrained from saying anything while Malfoy was there, eyeing him viciously.

"My feet are killing me," Harry moaned.

"Well, come on," Ginny said, shifting a bit so that Harry could sit beside her, which he did. Their thighs barely brushed due to the thick layers of fabric in Hermione's gown.

He saw a scowling Malfoy, already back in his Slytherin robes but still with the long hair, leave with Slevin and Pansy Parkinson. Harry promptly removed the stiletto shoes and hiked up the balloon skirt so that he could massage his heels. "Where's Ron?" he asked Ginny.

"I don't know," Ginny replied, shrugging. She was waving back at Roger and Cho who followed the Slytherins out. "One moment he and Hermione were just behind me, then they suddenly disappeared."

"I'm not going to ask what they're probably doing right now."

Ginny laughed. It was moments like these with Ginny that Harry loved the most—when the two of them could talk freely and have a laugh without the pressure of Miss Hogwarts bearing down on them.

There was a sly twinkle in Ginny's eyes. "So what gave you the idea to trip Malfoy like that?"

"I didn't do anything!" Harry insisted. Then, when Ginny's eyebrows didn't go back down, he grinned. "Actually it was all thanks to the snot balloons."

They both laughed out loud, which made Justin and Hannah look their way curiously.

"Erm," Harry mumbled, waving a hand, "don't mind us."

Justin grinned at him in what was unmistakably a meaningful manner.

Harry turned back to Ginny. Hugging her backpack close to her chest, she seemed oblivious to Justin's signal. Instead, she was looking at Harry's face in amusement.

Harry suddenly felt self-conscious—he was still wearing the silly wig, after all. "What?"

"Nothing," Ginny replied. "I was just thinking of how well you did tonight."

"Was I okay?"

Ginny gazed at him, as though pondering. "I don't know," she admitted after a while. "You did what we practiced this week and all, but there seemed to be something missing—"

"'Bye, you two," Hannah called.

Harry and Ginny waved at her and Justin. Justin, still giving Harry that knowing grin, winked at him.

"As you were saying," Harry said, silently noting that he and Ginny were all alone in the Great Hall, "what was missing?"

"You didn't look too…enthusiastic."

Harry knotted his forehead in confusion. "I thought I was."

"Not really. You were just showing off to Malfoy. I say, just enjoy being here." She motioned to the stage. "You seemed a bit uncomfortable, too."

"Well, for one thing," Harry said, pulling the long tendrils of the wig back, "this thing is itchy."

Ginny looked at him, tilting her head on one side, as though scrutinizing Harry's face. Her hair fell on one side of her face. Shining copper-red in the torchlight, her hair looked so...so _beautiful_, and he fought the urge to tuck it behind her ear.

Then suddenly Ginny looked energized. Her brown eyes flashed intelligently. "You know what?" she asked, setting the backpack down. "Blonde hair doesn't suit you."

"I take that as a compliment," Harry said seriously.

"Ha ha. Hold still—I'm removing your wig."

Harry kept still as Ginny reached up to remove the pins that held the wig in place. She moved deftly, at the same time doing so without causing as much pain as possible, as though she had already done it many times before.

If putting the wig on was difficult, removing it was relatively easy. In seconds, Ginny had set aside the wig…but she didn't remove her hands from his head. Harry suddenly felt tingles on his skin as her fingers combed the fringe on his forehead, lightly touching his scar, in a vain attempt to flatten his hair.

"I know," she said softly as she leaned back to look at him. "Maybe I can ask around for a Hair-Growing Potion—you know that one?" When Harry shook his head no, she reached up a hand again to lightly clear his forehead of stray hair again. "It'll make your hair grow to a desired length, then it'll turn back to its normal length after a while. We can curl the ends a bit, if you want. You know, I think that's what Malfoy used today."

Harry wasn't listening anymore. He was staring at her eyes, while inside him, a tumult of emotions raged wildly. Her touch, and the unbearable lightness of it, was slowly driving him out of his wits.

"And maybe we should remove these." Ginny's hand tugged at his glasses.

It was all too much; it was killing him. Harry caught her hand in his before she could take his glasses off. She looked into his eyes questioningly—but the expression on her face suddenly turned into one of surprise.

The way she looked at him, it was as though his whole being was open to her, as though she could see him right through—what went on inside him, what he wanted, what he meant to do. The torches in the Great Hall were reflected in her eyes so that they looked like little orange pinpricks in pools of sepia. He wasn't able to take his eyes off them for a while.

When he was finally able to, he found himself mesmerized by another feature on her face. His gaze had fallen on her pink, full, slightly parted lips. Something warm wafted to his lips—then he realized it was her breath.

Harry slipped his fingers between Ginny's. They fit perfectly, her slender fingers between his larger ones. Using his other hand, he tucked several strands of her hair behind her ear. With his instincts as his only guide, he traced her jaw line with his thumb, finally resting on her chin. Her lips were right there, slightly parted, as though waiting.

This, he thought, was what he had wanted to do since Monday night.

The tips of their noses were almost brushing now. Watching her eyes, he leaned closer, waiting for consent from her.

She closed them.

And Harry closed the distance between him and Ginny.

Harry knew what was coming, but actually feeling it happen shocked him. He kissed her, tentatively at first—he felt the slightest pressure of Ginny's lips against his, followed by a sigh from her. He felt small tremors throughout his body. His eyes fluttered closed...and he kissed her again. And again. Light, intoxicating kisses on the lips, all of them.

When Harry looked at her face again, her eyes were closed, her lips parted, as though letting the feeling sink in. And when she opened her eyes, the dazed glitter in them told him all that he needed to know.

Ginny's arms circled his waist just as he cupped her face in his hands. He somehow knew what to do. He tilted his head on one side and fit his mouth on hers. His mind had already lost hold of him. Then, as though it wasn't enough, Ginny's lips parted beneath his and kissed him back.

Harry involuntarily shivered; he had never thought anything could feel as painfully, _exquisitely_ wonderful as this. Then his hands were buried in her hair, and hers were gently kneading his shoulders, and everything that wasn't Ginny dissolved from his consciousness. For a long, long while, they kissed, shallowly breathing, gently exploring, uncovering new emotions that even in his fantasies didn't exist.

Then, gasping for breath, they pulled away from each other.

Ginny gazed back at him—her eyes were wide and wild; her hands were clutching the fabric of his gown.

They couldn't stop now. He didn't want to stop. Harry pulled her again for another searing kiss—but Ginny's hands pressed against his chest. Harry looked up at her face—and blinked at the sudden change of expression.

Ginny was looking panicked—very unlike the way she looked just a moment ago. Harry's stomach gave a sickening lurch. She wouldn't—or _would_ she...?

The worst thing that could happen at that moment came true.

"I...I have to go," Ginny gasped.

Harry's heart sank. "But..._why_?"

Ginny didn't answer. She had already straightened up and ran her hands through her disheveled hair. Her face very red, she picked up her backpack and stuttered, "I...Harry, I'm really sorry—"

With a last panicked, apologetic look, she tore out of the Great Hall.

Even after Ginny had disappeared from his sight, Harry stared at the big double doors in disbelief, trying to take in what had just happened.

He had just _kissed Ginny Weasley_.

He loved it. Oh, how he loved it.

And she _ran away_.

_What the hell?_

This was too...weird. And _insane_.

He had to go back to his dormitory. No, to Gryffindor Tower. He had to see Ginny—and ask her a lot of questions. No, wait. First, he needed to make sense of everything. He hopped off the stage, and immediately winced—his bare feet had hit the cold floor.

Harry searched the Great Hall for his shoes and robes, but the only clothing item left there was the stiletto heels.

Then he realized that all his clothes were inside Ginny's backpack.

_Damn._

So much for his first kiss.

Harry snatched up Hermione's shoes, strapped them on his feet, and went back to Gryffindor Tower as fast as the gown and stiletto heels would take him.

**Jenna's Notes:** Many, MANY thanks to Kate, Alli and Sirena for the beta.


	10. Harry and Harriet

**Miss Hogwarts**  


_Chapter Nine  
Harry and Harriet_

_...If he said he loved me,  
I'd be lost, I'd be frightened.  
I couldn't cope, just couldn't cope.  
I'd turn my head, I'd back away.  
I wouldn't want to know.  
He scares me so.  
I want him so.  
I love him so._

"Why," Hermione asked Ginny very early the next morning, "did you _do_ that?"

Ginny let out a disgruntled groan as she buried her face in Hermione's pillow. Her words were muffled by it as she resumed ranting. "I don't know! When I pulled away, I saw him looking at me and I suddenly ran away!"

"Wait, wait," Hermione said, putting her palms up. "What was it about Harry that made you run away? Was there something in his face or something?"

"No!" Ginny looked up at her. "It wasn't something on his face."

"_Then_ what?"

"I don't know, I told you!" Ginny sat up again and looked wildly at Hermione. "Hermione, it was embarrassing! What must he think about me now?"

"Well...what you did must've been really odd for him. He'd think you didn't like his kiss." Hermione seemed to think her last statement over. Then she gave Ginny a look reserved only for the intelligent examination of Arithmancy problems. "Is Harry a terrible kisser?"

Ginny blinked at her. "No, he...he's not."

Hermione slowly grinned lopsidedly. "He's good?"

Ginny's gaze fell on something far off. "He's...good." An image of last night appeared in front of her eyes—it was Harry, looking at her intently, his lips slightly parted as he touched her face.... She hugged the pillow to her chest. "Oh, Hermione, he was _good_..."

"Oh."

Ginny didn't notice Hermione's mischievous smile, for her mind had gone back to last night, there on the stage. His lips were so soft, his mouth so skilled.... She could close her eyes at that very moment and remember the feeling of Harry's thumb on her chin, and she would feel the remnants of the shocks she had felt then.

And his kiss... it was far more incredible than her fantasies. It was her first—but how could anyone do it like that? And how could it _feel_ like that?

"What do you mean, he was good?" Hermione asked. There was an intrigued note in her voice that Ginny rarely heard coming from the Gryffindor prefect. "What did it feel like?"

Ginny snorted. "Hermione, you kiss Ron all the time."

"Well, yes, but—" Hermione's eyes suddenly widened. _"Ginny!"_

A naughty grin spread across Ginny's face. "Hey, got you there."

"No! I mean...we...oh, _Ginny_." Ginny could see Hermione's face burning into a bright crimson.

"I knew it," Ginny went on. "Prefects always have an advantage, being able to sneak out at night...I remember seeing Percy and Penelope doing the same, my first year."

"Ginny, you're trying to change the topic of our conversation," Hermione said sternly. Ginny immediately shut up. "Now. Can you tell me of any logical reason _why_ you ran away from Harry when he kissed you?"

_Logical reason,_ Ginny thought. Hermione was made for logic. Meanwhile, this problem defied all logic.

Ginny tried to take a stab at it, anyway. "I think I was...scared."

"Scared?" Hermione repeated. "Why?"

So that was it, Ginny thought, Hermione was examining her psychologically. "I really don't know," she admitted.

Hermione stood up and paced the floor. "You say you're scared," Hermione said. "We can't say you were scared of Harry, right? So we can say that you were scared either of anyone finding the two of you there, or of what could happen if you didn't go. Now which one is it?"

"Um, neither," Ginny said.

Hermione stopped and raised her eyebrows at her.

Ginny thought again. "It's closer to the second, though," she said helpfully. "But I can't put a finger on it. I mean, I wasn't thinking about what _could_ happen, you know? It was just...what was already _there_." She let out a sigh. "I'm not making sense, am I?"

Hermione, meanwhile, was searching her face. Then she said quietly, "Are you afraid of what you're feeling?"

Ginny slowly looked up at Hermione.

"Are you afraid of what Harry _might_ feel?" Hermione pressed on.

Ginny suddenly realized that she was tightly hugging her knees to her chest. She put her chin on her knees and sighed heavily.

"Oh, Ginny." Hermione sat back on the bed and embraced her. "What's wrong with that? You _love_ him, don't you?"

"I...guess I always have," Ginny whispered.

Hermione released her and looked into her eyes. "But?"

"But," Ginny said slowly, "I'm not sure if...Harry feels...you know, the same."

"Ginny, hasn't it ever occurred to you that Harry might just like you as well?"

"Of course it has," said Ginny bitterly. Everything was suddenly revealed to her clearly—and now that it was, she couldn't stop herself. "But Hermione, it has only been...what? Four weeks? Four weeks since we finally talked to each other like we're close and all. Before, we were living on opposite sides of the world, and I was only Ron's little sister whom he saved in her first year..." Her voice trailed off.

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "You're afraid it might not be real for him. That's why you ran away—you didn't want to know if it isn't."

Ginny bit her lips. She felt something sharp and painful inside her nose bridge. Hermione was right—she was afraid Harry might not feel the same, or as strongly as she felt for him. She didn't realize it the whole night she had lain awake, trying to figure out her eccentric behavior, but now it was clear.

She sniffled and hurriedly swiped at her eyes with her palm. "It had been really stupid, watching him from afar...and now that we're close it's even worse."

Hermione took her hand. "Hey," she said consolingly. "What if you're just being paranoid? There's no reason for Harry not to love you back. You know, I think he likes you very much, and this is his friend of four years talking."

"Hermione." Ginny couldn't help but smile. "Thank you."

"Sure," Hermione said, standing up. She tugged at Ginny's arm. "You'll see that I'm right. Come on now. Breakfast."

Ginny felt that doom wouldn't leave her alone that day, however, once she and Hermione stepped into the common room. Ron and Harry were there, and they looked like they were having a conversation not unlike the one she and Hermione had just finished.

Harry was looking very bedraggled, even though he was already in his school robes. Ginny had to grip Hermione's arm. She couldn't look at him. No, she couldn't talk to him.

_You can't _not_ talk to him,_ said a voice in her head, that same taunting voice. _You have to explain yourself._

"So, er," Hermione was saying, looking at her. Her look plainly told her that she had to do what she had to. "I think you two need to..._have a chat_."

Ron cleared his throat. "Erm. Right. Hermione?"

Ginny forgot to tease Hermione as she and Ron slipped out of the common room together. She and Harry were just standing in the middle of the common room, staring at each other. Why did he have to look so innocently attractive with that hair even more tousled than usual? And it wasn't even _that_ messy—she had touched it last night, and was surprised at how soft it actually was.

"Erm," Harry began.

Ginny felt something jump inside her stomach. "Um," she said. "We need to talk."

Harry stared at her. Then, as though something from behind him kicked him on the shin, he immediately blurted out, "I'm sorry about last night."

Ginny kept quiet. She had the impression that Harry was going to say something to explain himself.

Harry seemed to be struggling with an inner voice, too. "I," he said tightly, "didn't mean to...do what I did last night."

Something heavy, like an anvil, fell on Ginny's stomach. She had a feeling that she wouldn't like this.

"I must have been out of my mind," Harry said. His face was beginning to redden. "I didn't want...I mean, I didn't mean to...just...kiss you like that." Ginny noticed Harry's Adam's apple bob up and down his throat. "It just came out of nowhere."

Ginny felt numb. So that was it. He didn't mean it. It was nothing—it was just some spur-of-the-moment kiss that came about because she was there and they happened to be alone. The kiss just came out of nowhere. Harry didn't do it because he had feelings for her, but because..._it just came out of nowhere_.

"I'm really sorry," Harry repeated. He probably noticed the hurt look on her face, but misinterpreted it. "I know you...you didn't like it."

"No. I didn't."

Like the kiss, Ginny's last statement came out of nowhere.

Harry looked stunned, as though he didn't really expect that from her. "You..._didn't_?"

"No."

Ginny wanted to scream at his face and slap him out of his wits. Didn't he know how _wonderful_ his kisses felt? She wanted to tell him just how his confession hurt, _hurt_ so much that she couldn't even feel it. She wanted to run back to her dormitory and cry her heart out.

But no—gone were the days when little Ginny Weasley had a crush on Harry Potter. She could see him now very clearly—and after last night, even clearer. She was not going to bawl in front of him.

It seemed to take Harry a lot of effort to apologize. "I'm really sorry."

Ginny didn't say anything. She just stared back at Harry's face defiantly.

"Look," Harry said. Ginny could see sweat breaking out of his forehead. "Is there..._anything_ I can do to get you to...to forgive me?"

Ginny felt herself soften at Harry's expression—so sincere and troubled. That was a foolish question. Because, despite everything, she couldn't bear to think that she had a grudge against him.

That didn't mean he was going to get away from it so easily, however.

"Fine," said Ginny, the wheels in her head turning. "There is something."

Harry blinked. Apparently, he realized that whatever was in Ginny's mind, he wasn't going to like it.

"I see that you're already doing good in the rehearsals," Ginny noted. "But like I said last night, you weren't enjoying it.

"So," Ginny said, the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. "I'm asking you now to _live it out_."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked apprehensively.

Ginny dropped the bomb. "Today, at breakfast, you are going to act like Harriet towards the boys."

Harry stared at her. The look on his face reminded her of how clueless he had looked when everybody told him that they had nominated him for Miss Hogwarts. Had it been really four weeks? It was like only yesterday.

"You mean," Harry said now, "flirt with them, all that?"

"Yep," Ginny affirmed. "The Walk, that seductive smile, you know?"

Harry gaped at her disbelievingly. It was almost enough for her to feel completely better.

Almost.

Harry approached her, stood right in front of her, and lowered his eyes so that they were level with hers. "You're doing this just to spite me, aren't you?"

"No," Ginny told him coolly. "I'm doing this because you told me you wanted to practice. I'm only doing what's best for you."

"Is that a challenge?"

_"Yes."_

Harry narrowed his eyes into slits. "Fine," he said after a while. He straightened up, but didn't take his eyes off her. "Fine."

Ginny smiled at him triumphantly. Boys. They didn't have a clue.

* * *

Apart from his talk with Ginny in the common room, Harry found two other surprises that morning.

First—that Ron would take his current position with Ginny lightly. It probably had something to do with Hermione, but after giving Harry a good long tongue-lashing about "not being too _disgusting_ with Ginny" and "taking care of her," Ron had given him some brotherly advice.

Which backfired, apparently.

Second—that Ginny was right about one thing: if there is one thing men will never understand, it is the way women's minds work. Harry had learned that the hard way.

Of course, he should have seen it coming. They had odd, unpredictable minds, girls. At one time they'd be really sweet, and then after a while they'd run away, without any explanations, after being kissed.

Then, they'd be really nasty, and they'd make the guys suffer for something _they_ had done. Like running away, without any explanations, after being kissed.

At least Ginny wasn't at the Gryffindor table yet. She had told him that she would follow later. Harry looked at his watch. Seventeen minutes before first period. He wouldn't have to make a fool out of himself for a long while.

The owls arrived that morning. There were more owls than usual—in fact, Harry had never seen so many owls before. But he wasn't too surprised.

"It's out," Harry said simply.

"Yes," Hermione said beside him. "I can see that."

An owl dropped a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ towards Hermione, which she caught and quickly unrolled. Four solo pictures adorned the front page—those of Malfoy, Roger, Justin and Harry. Simple shots of them in school robes, thankfully. Harry's picture smiled back at him uneasily—he was always like that on photos.

Harry and Ron looked at the paper from behind Hermione, while Fred and George stooped over.

**HOGWARTS HOLDS PAGEANTRY ON HALLOWEEN**

The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will hold a one-of-its-kind "beauty pageant" tomorrow, at eight o'clock in the evening in its Great Hall.

The professors of Hogwarts have given their consent to the students to hold this contest, which involves boys cross-dressing and competing in a beauty pageant-like competition.

Dubbed "Miss Hogwarts," the contest will feature four students from the different houses competing in a gala of talent, wits and evening gowns.

All proceeds of the contest will go to the construction of the Hogsmeade Orphanage, scheduled for opening on New Year's Day.

The four contestants, Draco Malfoy from the Slytherin house, Roger Davies from Ravenclaw, Justin Finch-Fletchey of Hufflepuff house, and Harry Potter of Gryffindor—

"Hermione!" George groaned. Hermione had turned the paper to the third spread. "Do you read _that_ fast?"

"Just hang on," Hermione said, skimming the rest of the article, which seemed to be continued to page four and five. "Well," she said finally. "It's a lot better than I had thought—although..."

"Although...?"

Hermione turned to Harry. "No offense, Harry, but the article didn't gloss on you."

Harry looked at her blankly. "Er, great?"

"It talked a lot about Malfoy, though."

"WHAT?" said Harry, Ron and the twins in unison. Fred snatched the paper from Hermione. The four boys began reading a likely paragraph:

"It's a good thing, helping," Draco Malfoy, the ruggedly handsome (Ron gagged at this point) Slytherin contestant, told the _Prophet_. "My family has always made it a point to do something for the less fortunate ones." 

Harry glanced at Malfoy at the Slytherin table, and was surprised at what he saw. Malfoy's usually pale face was a brilliant red as he read the _Daily Prophet_. When Crabbe elbowed him, grinning, Malfoy yelled at his face angrily.

"Interesting," Harry said. "What do you make of it?"

George set the paper aside, chuckling darkly, and motioned to the Slytherins. "Obviously it's one of _them_ who sold this story to the _Prophet_."

Hermione nodded. "You know what I think? Lucius Malfoy won't pass up this chance of showing the wizarding community that his family will take great pains to do something for the orphanage." She seemed to think about it for a while. Then, wincing slightly, she added, "And I mean, _great pains_."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing."

Fred squinted at Hermione. "So you're saying Lucius Malfoy sold this story?"

"Well," Hermione said, "it's a hunch. Or at least, someone sold it under his orders."

It was a sickening prospect. Apparently, Lucius Malfoy wanted good press for his family and did not care that his own _son_ was going _drag_ to get it.

The five of them stared at each other. Then Fred and George began to grin, and Ron joined them, and soon they were all laughing hysterically.

Just then, a tawny owl dropped a letter on Harry's head. Still snickering, Harry tore the envelope open, and was surprised to see that it was from Sirius. He held the letter under the table and began reading.

_Harry,_

_I read that article in the Daily Prophet, about the fund-raising activity there. Seems like you're going drag. What a nice surprise—my godson in a ball gown._

"Is he being sarcastic or what?" Harry muttered. He went on reading.

_Parents seem to be in an uproar here. But you know, if your father were alive, he'd be extremely proud of you for putting charity above humiliation. I don't know about Lily, though...but it IS for good cause, so she probably wouldn't mind._

_Hope you win! Don't smudge that lipstick._

_Sirius_

_P.S. Send me a picture of you in drag. A good one, all right?_

"The git," Harry said as he quickly stuffed the parchment into his pocket. But just as he did, a couple more owls dropped letters in front of Harry.

Harry picked up one of them and raised his eyebrows at the name of the sender. "Who's Martha Schilling?"

"One of your fans, probably," Ron answered dryly as he caught another letter sent by a barn owl.

Harry tore open the letter and read. "_'Harry Potter, I thought you had more sense in you to do charity work decently.'_ Now this is _my_ fault?"

More owls came flying his way and dropped letters on his plate, answering his rhetorical question. Muttering angrily, he shoved them away and let Ron and Hermione sort them out. Roger and Justin seemed to be getting a lot of owls, too, although he and Malfoy seemed to be getting the bulk of them.

"Oh, lookie, it's from good ol' Ollie!" Fred said, handing him a roll of parchment. Harry took it, wondering what his former Quidditch captain had to say, and read.

_Harry, mate,_

_If there's anyone who'll be able to pull this act off, it will be you. Puddlemere is having a rigid training session so I can't be there to watch. The best of luck, though! Keep the Gryffindor banner flying._

_O. Wood_

Harry grimaced. Typical Oliver Wood. If Wood were still in Hogwarts, he'd probably be a worse coach than Ginny—Harry could easily imagine Wood telling him and Ron to practice till midnight.

"Hagrid," Ron said, holding a letter. He and Hermione were reading Harry's fanmail, or hate mail, discarding them after reading. Harry took the seemingly short letter from Ron.

_Harry,_

_Just read the _Daily Prophet_. Don't mind those who tell you off. You'll be great, I know it._

_Hagrid_

"I wonder," Harry mumbled, setting the note aside, "if Hagrid has seen my potential of being a good cross-dresser."

"He probably saw it the moment he brought you to the Dursleys," Ron said.

"I was one year old then, for God's sake. How was he to see that?"

Ron looked at Harry's face closely. "Um...your long eyelashes were a giveaway?"

Fred and George snickered, then looked at something behind Harry. The back of Harry's neck suddenly began to prickle. "Where've you been?" they asked in unison.

Harry surreptitiously glanced at his watch. He had five minutes. He slowly turned around to face her.

Ginny's hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, but a few stray strands had escaped from it. There was something shiny on her lips. She looked as though she had just freshened up.

She looked amazing.

Pretending to be a girl was going to be hard.

"Gryffindor Tower," said Ginny matter-of-factly. Her eyes fell on Harry. Before he could make out what she was thinking, she smirked at him.

_All right, then,_ he thought. He had long figured out that Ginny didn't really tell him to do what she wanted to make him forgive her—she wasn't like that at all—but she had challenged him, and for some reason he wanted to respond to it, the way he did to her challenge to join Miss Hogwarts.

Harry tossed an imaginary wig on his head. "Why, Ginny _dar_ling," he gushed in his best sexy girl voice. "Is that lipstick there?"

Hermione, Ron, Fred and George stared at Harry, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Ginny, however, had a disapproving look about her. Apparently she wasn't too convinced.

Ron started to laugh. "You're taking the whole Miss Hogwarts thing too seriously," he told Harry. Fred and George started to snicker, too.

When inspiration struck—sudden, clever inspiration—Harry put a hand above his chest dramatically. "Oh, Ron, I'm hurt," he said, pouting and projecting his eyebrows pathetically. He cast Ginny a glance. "I'm _serious_ about the two of us, you know."

Fred and George burst into laughter. "What the _hell_?" Ron exclaimed. He inched farther from Harry.

Ginny, Harry saw, was suddenly wide-eyed in realization.

Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "How can you just..._dismiss_ all that's happened?"

"You're bloody SICK!" Ron yelled, smacking Harry's hand away.

"Oh, I don't know, Ron," Harry said huskily. Then, before he lost all the nerve he had left in him, he traced a finger on Ron's hand on the table. He gave Ron a seductive look, then smiled at Ginny meaningfully. "Last night was amazing though, wasn't it? Wish it could happen more often."

"AAAAAAAAARGH!" Ron yelled, standing up. His face a bit green, he strode away from Harry and hid himself behind Hermione. "GET HIM AWAY FROM ME!"

"What's the matter, Ron? Was I a bad kisser?"

"HARRY—SHUT UP! I MEAN IT! STOP IT!"

"It's Harriet, darling."

Ron definitely looked ready to belch slugs.

Harry could see that Ginny was now blushing down to her neck. She shot him a glance—an embarrassed, questioning one—and he smiled.

It worked.

* * *

Overall, the last day before what seemed to be the longest night of Harry's life was in disarray. In every class, Ron was skirting him, usually hiding behind Hermione and shooting him disgusted glances.

When he went down to the common room after a bath that night, he heard the Weasleys talking about him.

"Where's Harry?" asked Fred.

"Still taking a bath, I think," Ron said.

"He'd gone up at nine," George said. "It's almost eleven. You mean he's still taking a bath?"

"When I went there, he had been there for an hour, and when I was done taking a shower he was still bathing."

Fred laughed. "You took a shower with Harry?"

Ron issued loud oaths at Fred, to which everybody laughed and Hermione shrieked, _"Ron!"_

Harry descended the steps slowly. He first caught sight of Ginny, who was sitting on one of the huge couches by the fire, a book on her lap, chuckling with her brothers.

"I'm done," Harry announced, and everyone looked up at him.

Harry noticed Ron pale beneath his freckles. Ginny, meanwhile, had a secretive, knowing smile on her face when she looked up at him.

"Took you a while," said Ron guardedly.

"You think I liked _ touching_ your _hand_?" Harry asked him. "I had to rid myself of all residue. Ugh."

"Well, what were you playing at, then?" Fred asked.

"Acting," Harry said simply. He strode towards them and sank into an empty armchair. "Practice."

Ron was still looking wary. "So...it wasn't real."

"Don't flatter yourself, Ron. You're not _that_ attractive."

Hermione looked stung.

"At least to boys," Harry added helpfully. "Or, at least to _me_."

Ron stared at him. "I hope you're telling the truth. We're dancing tomorrow, and I don't want anyone to think that..._that_. I'm going to bed," he snapped, standing up quickly. He stomped up the stairs to their dormitory.

"This is rich," Harry grumbled, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back on the couch. "Now _he_ thinks I'm a—what did Mrs. Weasley call you?" he asked Hermione. "Scarlet woman, that's it."

Ginny snorted. "You _know_ about that?"

Harry raised his eyes at Ginny. It was the most normal thing she had said to him all day.

"Fred, George," Hermione said quickly, "you still happen to have some...um, spare Snot Balls, right?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah," George said. "Why?"

"We might need some...um, spare. Can you prepare a couple more pairs of Harry's...balloons for tomorrow?"

Why did he need two more pairs, when the one he already had (the twins had replaced the balloon he had burst) had Reinforcement Charms on them? Harry looked at Hermione. She didn't seem to want to meet his eyes.

"Why _sure_," Fred said, standing up with a grin. "_Anything_ for Miss Gryffindor."

George stood up as well. "Our stuff's upstairs, we'll give them to you tomorrow, all right? 'Night, you three."

"Get some beauty rest, Harriet," Fred added.

When Fred and George disappeared from view, Hermione proceeded to gather her things. Harry immediately realized what Hermione was trying to do—leave him and Ginny together. Alone.

"I'd better go up, too," Hermione said. "Good night."

"See you tomorrow," Ginny said.

When Harry and Ginny were finally alone, he waited for her to speak first. Which she did, after a long minute.

"Did you mean what you said? At breakfast?"

Harry gazed back at her. He didn't say anything.

Ginny tore her eyes off him and gazed at the fire. The flames, Harry saw, were almost the exact color as her hair.

"Yeah," he said finally.

Ginny hugged her knees to herself and rested her chin on them. "I should have been the one who apologized."

"No," Harry said. "But I think you do owe me an explanation."

Ginny blushed; she smiled at Harry in that embarrassed way, which he found very cute on her. "You said you didn't mean it. Last night," she muttered.

"Huh?" Harry said, knotting his forehead. "What are you talking about?"

"You said...it came out of nowhere."

Harry stared. "Well, it did," he said recovering. "It was all because..._oh_. You mean...?"

There was a look of comprehension on Ginny's face. "I...I thought...you didn't mean it."

"Oh!" So that was it—she had misunderstood what he had told her. She had thought it meant nothing to him. Ironically, he had also thought it had meant nothing to _her_. Harry laughed. "And there I was, thinking that I was doing it all wrong—"

Ginny gasped, turning even redder. "You _thought_ that?"

"What was I supposed to think after you ran away from me?"

Ginny bit her lip, smiling, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat. They were all right now. And Ginny didn't take her eyes off his. It seemed to be an invitation.

Harry stood up and approached her on the couch, holding her gaze. He had been waiting to do this again since last night. His very lips ached just by thinking about it.

He sank on the couch beside her.

And Ginny promptly stood up, and quickly strode towards the girls' staircase.

"Go to bed, Harry," she snapped at him.

Harry gaped at her. She was doing it again! He stood up. "What _is_ wrong with you?" he asked irritably.

Ginny didn't look back.

"Oh, I get it," Harry said disdainfully, marching to the foot of the girls' staircase. "You only like me when I'm wearing a wig or a gown. What should I do now, then? Be Harriet for the rest of my life?"

Ginny stopped climbing the stairs. When she turned around, she was pinkish, and she had on that secretive smile again.

"I _do_ love Harriet," she said softly. Then her smile widened. "But I love the boy she really is even more."

Harry gazed back at her, stunned.

Then she turned back around, climbed up, and disappeared.

Harry didn't know how long he stood there, staring up at the girls' staircase, Ginny's words ringing repeatedly in his head: _"I love the boy she really is even more."_

Yes, Ginny Weasley was a mystery.

And he only loved her more for that.

_**Jenna's Notes:** Big thanks to Kate, Alli and Sirena Black for the beta!  
The lyrics at the beginning of this chapter is from "I Don't Know How To Love Him," from the musical Jesus Christ Superstar.  
It's contest day in the next chapter! How will Harry handle make-up, Hair-Growing Potion and The Thing That Harry's Nightmares Are Made Of? Watch out for it!_


	11. All That Hair

_ ** Jenna's Notes:** This chapter is for Bohemian Vixen, a.k.a. Queen of Slytherin. She very generously, um, told me her experience regarding razors.  
A word of warning: The following chapter is very, VERY PG-13...if you get it.   
Disclaimer: I wasn't thinking of Dan upon writing this. I swear._

**Miss Hogwarts**

_Chapter Ten  
All That Hair_

I'm a girl and by me that's only great!  
I am proud that my silhouette is curvy  
That I walk with a sweet and girlish gait  
With my hips kind of swivelly and swervy.  
I adore being dressed in something frilly  
When my date comes to get me at my place.  
Out I go with my Joe or John or Billy  
Like a filly who is ready for the race!  
When I have a brand new hairdo  
With my eyelashes all in curl,  
I float as the clouds on air do,  
I enjoy being a girl! 

Harry was late for breakfast on Halloween morning, a few hours before Miss Hogwarts would begin. Ginny, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him anxiously—Ginny was practically pacing the floor. When he rushed into the Great Hall, sprinting, Ginny immediately asked, "Where have you been?"

"Quick owl," Harry said, sitting down beside Ron. "Sorry—did I miss anything?"

"No," said Ginny, taking a seat herself. She pushed a plate of bacon in front of him. "Eat."

After three years of competing in Quidditch and a year in the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had learned to anticipate his lack of appetite on breakfast before a match. This morning was no exception.

Harry shook his head helplessly. So did Ron.

Ron, it seemed, was on a fast as well. He wasn't speaking much. In fact, he was staring at empty space. Harry was right in suspecting that Ron was going to get the nerves on the day of Miss Hogwarts itself. This only made him more nervous.

"Honestly," Hermione said exasperatedly. "You don't have to worry about _anything_. You're prepared." She peered into the two boys' faces. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah, we are," Harry managed to say. "Just nerves."

Ginny was looking at his face, too. "Are you _really_ okay?" she asked firmly.

"I won't be if you keep asking me that."

Harry saw Ginny look at something behind him. He turned around and saw Hermione staring at them wide-eyed.

"We've made up," the two of them said at the same time. They glanced at each other and Ginny ducked her head.

"Oh, good," Hermione said, a self-satisfied smile on her face.

Ginny let out a sigh. "Look, Harry," she said, her voice reverting to a this-means-business tone. "I have to see you and Ron after classes so we can practice one last time. Then we'll put on your makeup and do your hair."

Harry found himself swallowing. He knew it would all come down to this, but the very thought of it made him wince, to say the least.

"I can't help you much," Hermione said. "We have to decorate the stage and make a makeshift backstage. I'll drop by to see how you are doing, though."

"I'll meet you right after classes in the common room," Harry told Ginny.

"All right," Ginny said, nodding. "Then afterwards, take a shower, brush your teeth thoroughly, remove any facial hair—"

"They don't even show much," Harry interrupted, touching his upper lip.

"Even so," Ginny said. "We have to keep your face—and every visible part of your body, actually—_really clean_."

Harry stared at her. Something in what she had just said seemed to unearth a hideous fear hidden deep within his unconscious.

And as if to confirm his thoughts, Ginny's eyes fell on his lower legs.

"You're not," Harry stated, his blood draining out of his face.

The edges of Ginny's lips were twitching. "I'm really sorry."

"What are you talking about?" asked a baffled Ron.

Harry, however, was staring at Ginny in horror. "YOU'RE GOING TO SHAVE MY BLOODY LEGS!"

All the people in the Gryffindor table looked up at Harry's exclamation. Ginny, immediately turning red, hung her head in embarrassment.

"Looks like they _will_ be bloody after you have them shaved," Fred remarked, grinning.

Ginny eyed Harry and went on in a low voice. "How do you think you'd look, romping onstage with all that hair on your legs?"

"Look—the ball gown is long," Harry said, not noticing everyone staring at him.

"It has a slit up to your mid-thigh."

"Why didn't you tell me _that_ when I fit the dress in Gladrags?"

Ginny crossed her arms across her chest. "I knew we'd have to shave your legs then."

"Well... why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"Because you looked _beautiful_ in that ball gown, that's why!"

_Beautiful._ Good God, why did women have to go to great lengths to be beautiful? Ginny, still looking at him witheringly, waited for a retort with arms crossed on her chest.

"What else?" Harry asked flatly. "Arms, armpits, you'll shave them all?"

"Harry, let me clear something up with you. _I'm_ not going to do the shaving," Ginny told him pointedly, although she turned even redder, if it was possible. "_You_ do it while you're in the showers."

"Now that's worse. I haven't used a razor in my whole life, okay? Listen—isn't there any spell for shaving?"

They all looked at Hermione. "Not that I know of," she said thoughtfully. "There's a potion though—"

"I've been looking around," Ginny interrupted. "All I was able to find were razors."

"You're not going to use the Muggle type, Harry," George told him. "Not those rusty ones Dad has lying around the house. They're the magical type. Cleans really well."

Harry slumped on his chair. "This is great. I won't be surprised if everyone suddenly starts to think I'm a real girl."

"Hey, that's the whole point of Miss Hogwarts, right?" George said. "Who'll make the best girl among you?"

Harry sighed deeply. _This is going to be a long day,_ he thought, looking down on his untouched bacon.

* * *

"Back, place, front, place, right, place, left, place," Ginny chanted against _Heaven at Midnight_ as Harry and Ron danced in the middle of their dormitory. "Pull—okay. Turn around!"

When the last percussion of the music died, Ron released Harry so forcefully that he staggered back. Harry had noticed that Ron's hands were clammier than usual. But then again, he was shaking a bit himself.

"You're okay, but you're stiff, a bit stiff," said Ginny, jumping off Ron's bed. "Just _relax_. Enjoy. Okay?" she said, almost beseechingly.

Harry and Ron nodded.

"We can't do anything more here," said Ginny. Harry noticed that she was twisting her hands in front of her. "You just need to relax onstage—enjoy it."

The three of them looked at each other.

"We have three hours left," Ginny said in a small voice. "I think you two better—er, take a bath now."

Something heavy and unpleasant had slipped into Harry's stomach. _Three hours._ Three hours—and he still had to relax.

"Right," Ron said. He grabbed his dressing gown and a fresh set of clothes from his bedside cabinet; Harry did the same. It was an awkward moment. He and Ron did many things together, but not—_ever_—hit the showers. To add to that, Ginny was there, watching them quietly.

"Hey," Ginny said, "Don't forget your razor."

He had unconsciously forgotten about it, Harry thought, as he took George's razor from his bedside drawer. He had borrowed it earlier that day (much to the Gryffindor boys' hysterical laughter). It looked like a Muggle razor, but Harry knew that it worked better, and there was no need of such things as shaving cream.

"Well," Harry muttered, "see you later."

Ron didn't say anything when they got into the bathroom. He hurried over to a cubicle and locked himself up in it. Hearing the rush of water flowing out, Harry decided to get a move on himself. He faced the mirror above the basins ("Hi, handsome," the mirror said to him), brushed his teeth thoroughly and gargled. Then he took a towel from a stack on one corner of the room, got into the cubicle that was the farthest from Ron's, removed his glasses, slippers and clothes, and turned on the shower.

Harry looked at himself as he let the water run though his hair, down his body. So this was Harry Potter. Definitely a boy, no question about it. And as he thought about it, Miss Hogwarts would never really make him a girl.

For one thing, there was Ginny. And he wouldn't be thinking about her if he were of the same gender, would he?

Forcing himself not to think about Ginny while he was staring at his naked self, he looked up and closed his eyes to let the water flow over his face. Then, after washing up, he took the razor and inspected it warily. Again, he asked himself why he had to go to great lengths as these to get Gryffindor two hundred House points.

And those orphans a home.

Harry's heart softened, just a bit. He consoled himself with what he had been telling himself for a while now: _It's only for one night._

_Here we go, Potter,_ Harry thought.

He started with his arms. What very fine hair he had on them disappeared. Then—Harry grimaced—he began shaving his armpits. There was something tight inside his throat as he did so.

When that was in order, he hoisted his right foot on the wall and began shaving his legs. But for some reason—probably the lack of experience, or the absence of his glasses—he pressed too hard, and saw the blood ooze out of the cut before he felt the stinging pain.

"Ow—damn it!" Harry let out a loud curse as he hurriedly washed his leg under the shower.

"Harry, you okay?" came Ron's voice.

"Yeah—just this bloody razor." Harry tried again, but he cut himself once more. _"Damn!"_

"You'd better let Ginny do that for you," said Ron.

Harry thought about it for a while. Ginny probably had more experience, anyway—and he didn't want to have scars all over his legs in the contest. _Malfoy would love that,_ he thought grimly.

But then again, the thought of _Ginny shaving his legs_...

"I'm off!" Ron called out.

"All right!"

After a few more minutes, Harry got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and faced the mirror again, still dripping wet. "You look good," the mirror commented.

"Thanks," Harry replied sardonically. It was almost like he had a stalker inside the bathroom. He pushed his glasses up his nose, leaned closer to the mirror and carefully shaved the very vague shadow of a mustache and the small hairs on his chin. He didn't cut himself.

Satisfied, he threw on a button-down shirt, boxers and pants. Then, gathering his things, he went back to his dormitory.

Harry found Ginny lying down on Ron's bed. She immediately sat up when Harry entered. "How did the shaving go?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"I cut myself on the legs," Harry answered dryly. Then he remembered that he was going to ask her to continue the process—Harry braced himself for another terribly awkward moment.

"Oh, dear," said Ginny. She opened her mouth to speak again, but as though she suddenly realized what she was about to say, she clamped it shut.

"Um, Ginny?"

"Hmm?"

"Y-you don't mind...doing it, do you?"

Ginny seemed to know exactly what he meant. She shook her head a little too quickly and turned her back on Harry. "Just go there—" she pointed to a chair she had placed in front of the full-length mirror. "And we'll work on it."

"This is crazy," Harry muttered to himself. He sat down on the chair anyway, and looked at his image on the mirror, committing it to memory as though he wasn't going to see it again.

Ginny came up behind him, carrying a small basket. "It's interesting, how many of the Gryffindor girls have things like these." She held out two bottles, one of which looked like the Hair-Growing Potion.

"You mean you went around the dormitories, collecting?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Yep," Ginny said. She flexed her fingers—the simple gesture made Harry swallow in nervousness. "Ready?"

"Go on," said Harry guardedly.

Ginny cast a Drying Charm on Harry's hair. Then, taking the bottle of Hair-Growing Potion, she squeezed a few drops onto her palm and ran it through his hair. It felt good, with Ginny raking her fingers through his hair...it was almost like they were back on the stage, and it was close to midnight after the final rehearsal....Before long, he began to relax.

"Why are you smiling?" Ginny asked.

"Hmm? Oh, it just...feels good."

"Hmm." Ginny put another type of potion into his hair and ran her fingers through it again. She was nimble and gentle at the same time. But all too soon for Harry, Ginny took a shower cap and placed it on his head. With a pleased smile, she placed her hands on the back of the chair and looked at their reflections in the mirror.

"So...what's next?" Harry asked.

Ginny pursed her lips. "Well—I had assumed that we'd start with the makeup already, but with your legs..."

Harry saw his reflection turn pinkish. "Oh—okay. The razor's on my bed."

Ginny went to get the razor and looked back at Harry. She stood in front of him, but did nothing else—it was as though she was gathering the courage to say something.

Harry raised his eyebrows in a questioning gesture.

"Er, Harry," Ginny stammered. "Your—your pants."

Harry looked down. "Oh—right." He was definitely red now. "Could you—turn around just a bit?"

Ginny obliged, although it was pointless—she was going to see him in his boxers anyway. But maybe, Harry reasoned, the gesture of removing his pants while she was looking was what seemed dirty. Harry took a good long look at Ginny before he stood up and yanked his pants down. _This is crazy,_ he thought again, tossing the pants onto his bed. Sitting in front of Ginny Weasley in his _boxers_, letting her shave his _legs_—

"You can look now," Harry mumbled.

Ginny didn't seem to want to look at him as she sat down on the floor in front of Harry. She examined the two cuts on his legs, which had already clotted. "It's not so bad, thankfully," Ginny said. She took a little vial from the basket and rubbed its liquid blue content gently onto his cut. When she removed her thumb from the cut, it had disappeared.

Harry's astonishment didn't last long, however, when Ginny took the razor again. Without another word, she began shaving his right leg.

_It's not so bad,_ Harry thought. Ginny was able to do it gently, without cutting him. In fact, he almost didn't feel the razor—it just felt like something cool against his leg. She began with the lowest part of his leg, working upwards.

When Ginny started shaving the part of his leg just below his knee, disaster struck.

At first he felt kind of warm all over...then as he became more and more sensitive to Ginny's delicate touch, a part of him began to feel tight. Harry found himself sitting stiffly. When Ginny's hands were on his thigh, carefully shaving, Harry felt sweat break out on his forehead. He was suddenly pushing himself against the back of the chair and gritting his teeth. _Oh, God, _he thought, panicking.

Knowing what he was about to see, Harry looked down—and covered himself with his hands. Not knowing what else to do, he stuttered, "Gi—Gi—Ginny?"

"What?" Ginny said in an irritated tone, as though he was interrupting her concentration.

"Could—could you please—get my pillow—from my bed?"

Ginny looked up at his face sharply. She seemed to have missed it—but she stared for too long...and her eyes wandered downwards.

"OH!" Ginny let out a muffled scream. She immediately shot up and tore her eyes off him, her face glowing. She stumbled across the room and grabbed a pillow from Harry's bed. Still not looking at him, she threw it at Harry.

Harry was as tomato-red as she was. He put the pillow on his lap and held it there, wincing.

After a long while, Ginny stammered, "I-is it...?"

"It's covered," Harry said stupidly. Oh, that was wonderful. Harry suddenly felt that he was harassing her, even though he didn't mean it.

He really didn't.

It was...nature.

Ginny turned her face towards him, but she still had her eyes closed. She sat down in front of him again, and opening her eyes just a crack, resumed what she was doing.

When Ginny began shaving his left thigh, it happened again.

Harry discreetly wiped his forehead with his sleeves when Ginny had finished. She refused to look at him. All his life he had been embarrassed—in school with Dudley, out in the Quidditch pitch, in front of Cho Chang—but this was mortification in its fullest extent.

"I—" Harry cleared his dry throat, and tried again. "I'm really sorry."

Ginny was looking for something that didn't seem to exist inside her basket. "Yeah, well...it's not as if I don't..." She mumbled something incoherent, but Harry thought he caught the words "brothers" and "morning."

Harry didn't press further.

Ginny came up with a mahogany-colored box, which turned out to be the makeup kit. Inside was what Harry thought was every girl's dream. It had dozens of colors, glittering and otherwise, although how the small squares of colors differed with the ones in the larger squares, he couldn't figure out. The engraving on the lid of the box said, _Charms and Magic: no-stick, non-erasable makeup for young witches. _

"'Non-erasable'?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

"Just use the Erasing Charm to remove it," Ginny said. "And don't lick your lips too much."

If would have been an innocent remark, but after what had just happened to him...Harry shook his head. He took a peek under the pillow—and seeing that everything was back to normal, he tossed the pillow off.

Ginny sighed in relief. "Take off your glasses, Harry," she instructed.

Harry slipped off his glasses and handed it to Ginny. Despite the blur in his vision, he saw Ginny gazing into his eyes, as though discovering something. "That's not fair," she said. "You have such long eyelashes."

"I do?" Harry asked, taken aback. Ron had mentioned it, but Harry didn't really pay much attention.

"Mm-hmm." Ginny smiled. "That will look great, once curled."

"Great," Harry muttered dryly.

Ginny didn't say anything as she searched the basket...and came up with a pair of tweezers.

Eyes bulging in shock, Harry wasn't able to say anything until Ginny cupped one side of his face with one hand and plucked his right eyebrow with the other— "OUCH!"

"Sorry," Ginny muttered.

Harry spent basically the next ten minutes yelping in pain with every strand of hair Ginny removed from his eyebrows. When she finished, Harry reached out to touch his eyebrows, wondering if he'll ever have them back to normal again.

Ginny took something that, for Harry, resembled a fat, flesh-colored lipstick. She began smearing it across his forehead.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"This? It's a concealer. It works better than foundation."

"Oh. Okay." Whatever those things were.

Ginny was now spreading the concealer using her soft fingers. "You know," she said, "I meant what I said, the time when we were working on what that _Teen Witch_ article was saying." When Harry gave her a puzzled look, she went on. "I really think you can win Miss Hogwarts."

"Yeah? Why d'you—" Harry cut himself off when Ginny's fingers began working on his neck.

Ginny simply shrugged. "You're good at this. Yeah, I know you need to relax and all, but once you're able to...." She let her voice trail off as she took the makeup box and tilted her head on one side as she looked at its contents, as though deciding what color to use. Then she took a brush, patted it on one of those larger, light pink squares, and brushed it on Harry's cheek.

"You really think so?" Harry asked.

"Yep. Oh, and there's another thing." Once done with Harry's cheeks, she brushed something out of a tube into his eyelashes—he didn't think he'd ever understand what was with all those different kinds of makeup. "_Never_ underestimate the other contestants."

Ginny took a strange-looking device. She tilted his chin up. "Look up, please. Eyes wide. Don't blink."

Harry did as he was told. She fixed the device above one eye and held it there, and did the same with his other eye. Afterwards, she traced what seemed like a pencil somewhere there, and finally, she brushed eyeshadow over the lids. All the while, Ginny's left hand was on his chin, and she was biting her lip in concentration.

"Why do you spend so much time with eyes?" Harry asked.

"I really don't know," Ginny told him, surveying her handiwork. "The girls in my dorm just taught me that it's supposed to be like this. Besides, your eyes..." She smiled. "They're really, you know, beautiful. Even without the makeup."

Harry smiled in spite of himself.

Ginny then put lipstick on him, then another of a different shade...then she wiped his lips with her thumb and painted another kind of lipstick on them. If the situation wasn't so awkward, Harry would have found the feeling of her fingers on his lips quite delightful.

Ginny stood up and placed herself at the back of Harry's chair—and Harry gaped at what he saw. He was quite sure it was still him on the mirror, but he was—he looked...well, different. And when Ginny removed the shower cap on his head, and waves of long, flowing black hair tumbled down his shoulders, his jaw dropped.

So did the image of the girl on the mirror. Even though his sight was blurred, Harry saw that the girl was—he had to admit it to himself—_beautiful_. Her wide green eyes looked back at him in surprise. When he tried to smile, the girl smiled back lopsidedly, her pink lips shining under the afternoon sun that poured into the room from a window.

"That's...me," Harry said in awe.

Ginny nodded, smiling. She was brushing his hair and arranging it around his face. "Pretty, isn't she?"

Harry tried to snicker, but he was much too preoccupied with his reflection. This couldn't be him. It just couldn't be.

"I'm not even an expert at this, to be honest—glad you like it, though." Ginny smiled widely. "Time to fit into your dress, Harriet."

Harry stood up, still staring, and started unbuttoning his shirt. The sight of his torso was quite disturbing, as it was under a very pretty girl's face, but at least it gave him the assurance that he was still a boy....

Ginny helped Harry put on the lacy bra and the Snot Boobs. Then Harry slipped into the outrageous red dress, the one he was going to use for the opening number. It was sleeveless, and had a very low neckline and a hem that was longer on one side.

"Here," said Ginny, handing him a fake diamond necklace and a pair of silver stiletto heels. "And there's your shoes."

When he was done, Harry looked back at the mirror and at his changed self. Unlike the final rehearsal, he now had long, black hair, breasts and makeup. It sure was a great improvement from his own self in the final rehearsal. He threw his shoulders back and lifted his arms gracefully, then smiled seductively.

"Good one," said Ginny, grinning. "Your hips, though—"

Harry had noticed. His hips were slightly bulging against the dress.

"It's the boxers," Ginny told him. "You'd better remove them."

Harry's eyes bulged as he felt himself redden yet again. "You're saying—I won't be wearing _knickers_?"

"No!" Ginny almost screamed. "Just—change them, so we won't—um, _see it_."

It just had to happen that Ginny always put him on the spot. And regarding the most private things, too.

"Well—you're not going to stay here, are you?"

Ginny blushed again. "No." She made a move towards the door.

"Hey, Gin."

"What?" Ginny whirled around to face him.

Harry batted his eyelashes. "Thank you, Ginny," he said in his Harriet voice.

Ginny grinned and gave him a thumbs-up sign.

* * *

Harry looked so pretty that Ginny almost felt envious. His eyes were more striking than ever with the mascara, eyeshadow and the curved eyebrows, and without the glasses, they shone brightly with every smile. His thin lips looked fuller with lipstick. Dark hair suited him, indeed, and Ginny was right in curling the ends with a Hair-Curling Potion. And with his naturally straight nose and prominent jaw, Harriet was a stunning beauty. If it weren't for his lack of curves and the slightly evident veins on his arms, he would have passed for a beauty queen.

With Harry's Invisibility Cloak and his two other gowns slung on one arm, and her backpack on the other shoulder, she motioned to Harry.

"You sure you don't need help with that?" Harry asked her.

It was difficult to get used to such a pretty lady talking to her in a baritone. "Don't be silly," Ginny answered. She resumed descending the stairs leading to the common room, but promptly stopped.

Ron and Hermione were standing face to face in the middle of the common room, talking. Ron was wearing a dirty-white long-sleeved button-down shirt tucked in black pants, and Bill's black dragonhide boots.

Ginny was about to call them when Hermione began undoing the first two buttons of Ron's shirt.

Ginny watched, amused. She motioned to Harry again, telling him to wait.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked Hermione, obviously flustered.

"Making you look like a dancer and not a waiter," Hermione said. She adjusted Ron's collar, then folded the cuff of his right sleeve until it reached only as far as his elbow. She did the same to his other sleeve. As she did, Ron was silent, but Ginny could see that his neck and ears were red.

"There. See?" Hermione said finally as she stepped back and surveyed Ron with a keen eye. "It's much better."

Ginny had to agree. Her brother looked..._dashing_. When he smiled at Hermione briefly, she thought Hermione blushed.

"Looking good, Ron," she called out.

Hermione and Ron looked up. Ron immediately stepped back from Hermione. Hermione, meanwhile, flashed her a quick, apologetic sort of grin.

"Hi, Ginny," Hermione said. "Where's Harry?"

"Nowhere," said Ginny, catching Harry's eye. "But Harriet's here."

Hermione's grin widened. "Where is she?"

Ginny saw Harry wink at her. She bit down her lower lip forcefully and swore not to laugh. When she caught Harry's eye again, she gave him a nod.

And Harriet came striding in to view.

Ron and Hermione's jaws dropped open. Harry moved with fantastic poise, his shoulders thrown back and one hand gracefully on top of the other in front of him. Ginny let him pass, and Harry descended the stairs in a sideways manner, not keeping his eyes off Ron and Hermione.

Harry approached the two and smiled. "I'm ready," he said in his signature girl voice. Ginny was grinning from ear to ear now, extremely proud of her creation.

Ron and Hermione were still looking at Harry disbelievingly. "How—did you—?" Ron sputtered.

Harry tossed his head to flip his hair over his shoulders. "It comes out naturally," he said huskily.

"Bloody _hell_," Ron muttered. His eyes fell on Harry's chest. He raised a finger and prodded one of the Snot Boobs. "How in the world did you get _these_?"

Harry swatted Ron's hand away. "You git," he growled, immediately switching back to his usual voice.

Ginny laughed and skipped her way downstairs. "Harry wants to go to the Great Hall in his Invisibility Cloak," she told Ron and Hermione.

"Oh I see," Hermione mumbled, not removing her eyes from Harry.

"So," Ginny said, hooking an arm with one of Harry's, "shall we?"

Harry put on his glasses and took a deep breath. "Here we go."

_**Jenna's Notes, Part Two:** And here we go, indeed! The song lyrics is from "I Enjoy Being a Girl" from the musical, The Flower Drum Song. Many thanks to Alli and Kate for the beta. This was a tough chapter to write!_

_As Kate had said, what to do inside the boxers is something "more than you, me, or Harry should ever have to contemplate." I didn't try to delve too much into the details, just because that is not what this fic is all about._

_Will Harry be able to strut his stuff in front of the whole Hogwarts population, plus...are those outsiders?! Will he and Ron groove to the music just fine? Did the Ravenclaw girls really transfigure Roger's body? Will Justin faint upon seeing the distransfigured chests? Will Draco look like part-Veela? Will Miss Hogwarts, after all, turn out to be Hogwarts, the Musical? Watch this space!_


	12. The Pageant

** Miss Hogwarts**

_ Chapter Eleven  
The Pageant_

Harry dodged a first-year Hufflepuff girl as she skipped inches away from his Invisibility Cloak and wondered if the first-years would be scarred for life after tonight.

"You still there?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah..."

"I really don't understand why you have to cover yourself up. Everyone will see you in a while, anyway."

"I don't want to be applauded while I'm going up there," Harry said through gritted teeth.

The Great Hall was decorated in a very different manner from the other Halloweens Harry had spent in Hogwarts. Instead of Jack-o-Lanterns and bats, purple streamers decorated the walls, and banners of the four Houses hung from the ceiling.

The professors' long table was placed below the platform, and like the House tables it looked longer than it usually was. The platform, meanwhile, looked like a full-fledged stage now. A velvet backdrop had on the words "Miss Hogwarts" in glittering script that changed colors every second. There were lights onstage, although where they came from Harry wasn't sure. A backstage seemed to have been built, too.

Harry would have been impressed by the new decorations if his nerves weren't twanging with tension. It had been all right in the common room, but it seemed as though as he got nearer the stage, he became more and more edgy.

"Ginny, Paul and I have to be with the audience, but I'll try to sneak backstage every now and then," Hermione was saying. "Will you be okay?"

"Don't worry, we'll be fine," Ginny replied, although Harry could have sworn she was swallowing.

Hermione laid a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "I'm sure you will," she said. "Hope you'll enjoy the show. We have a few surprise guests tonight, you know."

She then took both of Ron's hands and squeezed them. "Good luck."

Ron swallowed and nodded at Hermione.

"Harry," Hermione went on, looking at an entirely different spot than where Harry stood, "You'll be great. See you three later, all right?"

"See you, Hermione," said Ginny.

Hermione went off to the professors' table. Professor McGonagall was already there, and so were Madam Hooch and Professor Sprout. The three professors spoke to her in hushed voices. Harry presumed that Professor McGonagall was reminding Hermione of the first-years about to watch.

"Come," said Ginny, motioning for him and Ron to follow her. She led them towards the side of the stage, then behind the curtains.

The backstage was surprisingly spacious. There were even two small lavatories on one side. About a dozen people bustled here and there. Harry could see what looked like a mysteriously pretty dark-haired lady sitting on a chair on one corner, popping Every Flavor Beans into her mouth with shaking hands.

When certain that nobody was looking, Harry removed his Cloak and hid it in Ginny's bag. Ginny then led him and Ron to the other corner.

"Hey Justin," said Harry to the pretty lady.

Justin looked up. "Oh—hi," he said, grinning nervously. "You look great."

Harry grinned back. "So do you." And Justin did indeed look beautiful—if Harry had to put it that way. His lengthened hair was piled on top of his head. He was wearing a slinky sparkling yellow gown.

Justin took another bean and bit at it. Then he coughed and spat the bean out. "Urgh, soap," he muttered, wiping his mouth.

"Ah, Justin, you're ruining your lipstick!" Hannah exclaimed, running over to him. Harry saw that she had been talking to Ernie Macmillian and two sixth-year Hufflepuff boys whom Harry had seen around the school. The three of them were wearing matching black tuxedos.

Harry joined Ginny and Ron in one corner and sat down on the chair Ginny had placed there. "You okay?" she said.

"Is that what everyone will be asking me tonight?" Harry muttered.

"Well, you do look a little pale."

"I have this sticky flesh-colored thing on my face—how can it be anything else but pale?"

"It's a _concealer_," Ginny told him, rolling her eyes. "Sure, your face looks okay, but the tension's in your voice. How about that Harriet voice?"

Harry straightened his back and flipped his hair over his shoulders for Ginny and Ron to see. "I'm fine, Ginny darling," he said in perfect Harriet style that surprised even himself. "How about giving your brother a pep talk? He's sweating."

"I'm not," Ron grunted, standing up and heading towards the divider that separated the backstage from the stage itself. Harry saw him take a peek through the dense curtains into the audience.

"You know," Ginny said, her eyes following Ron's back, "I'm really starting to worry about him."

"I've been worrying about him since breakfast," Harry said truthfully.

Ginny peered into his face. "He'll be on stage only once. I'm more worried about you, actually."

Harry let out a snicker which he tried to sound as confident as he can manage. "You still think I'll screw up?"

Ginny pressed her lips together. "No—it's just that...all the pressure's on you, like in those Quidditch matches...and I thought you have every right to be nervous 'cause all the Gryffindors want you to win." She paused as she reached for something inside her bag. "But the difference is that you'll be alone out there, and Ron will be with you only for a short while...."

As soon as Ginny got the words out, something stirred inside Harry. She was right. But instead of feeling nervous, he suddenly felt bolder.

Ginny held out a Chocolate Frog. "Chocolates are supposed to be therapeutic," she said, smiling.

"Thanks." He unwrapped the chocolate and shoved it into his mouth.

Just then, Ron exclaimed—"DAD?!"

Harry and Ginny stared at him. _"What?"_ they said together.

Ron turned to them, looking horrified. "Dad—he's—he's HERE, Ginny!"

Harry accidentally swallowed the barely-chewed Chocolate Frog. He and Ginny followed Ron and peeked from behind the curtain. Harry had to squint to see a redheaded man take a seat on the Gryffindor table. Two other redheads—Fred and George—joined him.

"Who else?" Harry said, scanning the audience. Apart from the students and teachers, there were certainly many other people in the Great Hall. They were taking seats on the House tables.

"Look!" Ginny exclaimed, pointing to another man sitting beside Mr. Weasley. "That—that's Professor Lupin!"

"Why am I not surprised?" Harry mumbled weakly.

"Professor Lupin?" Ron whined. "Isn't it that time of the month?"

Harry saw Ginny look at her brother witheringly. "Do you mind?"

Harry heard someone enter the backstage. The three of them turned around to see Cho—followed by none other than Roger Davies. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Justin's jaw drop. Roger was wearing a skimpy sequined blue gown with a very low neckline—so low, that his cleavage was showing.

_Cleavage. _

Indeed, someone had Transfigured his torso. Harry noticed that Roger's waist looked smaller, too, and his hips wider. The Ravenclaw girls (at least, Harry assumed that they were the ones who had done the Transfiguration) didn't do too well with the arms, though—Roger's biceps were still apparent. But the Transfiguration was in itself—

_"Brilliant,"_ Harry heard Ginny whisper beside him. She was ogling at Roger's boobs.

"Blimey," Ron muttered weakly from the other side of the room.

"McGonagall will be so proud," Harry agreed, staring.

Roger and Cho sat down across Justin and Hannah, who were both staring. Harry saw Justin swallow and arrange his own fake breasts. By the looks of it, he had used some kind of cloth for them.

Betty Sparks suddenly stormed into the backstage, followed by Eric Slevin. She was holding several parchments against what seemed to be an improvised clipboard. "We have ten minutes!" she yelled, looking around. "Where's Malfoy?"

"Right behind you, Sparks, and be quiet," Malfoy said smoothly, materializing behind Betty all of a sudden with Pansy Parkinson right beside him. "Ever heard of backstage whisper?"

Betty whipped around, scowling at him. For a Hufflepuff she was incredibly plucky—but only because she was tense, Harry reasoned. "For your information, Malfoy, the backstage has a Silencing Charm. I can yell for all I care."

Malfoy smirked. Harry, meanwhile, was not impressed. Perhaps it was because he had already seen Malfoy with the waist-length silvery-blonde hair already that Harry wasn't too surprised to see him looking like a Fleur Delacour clone, what with the makeup and the short, dark-green dress with a strap on only one shoulder.

"Hmm," Ginny said to Harry. "Nice dress."

"It looks like something out of the Amazon," Harry commented.

Malfoy's eyes fell on the two of them. Harry simply grinned and waved in a flourish.

Harry and everyone else in the backstage then heard Hermione's voice from outside, magically magnified: "Your attention, please. Miss Hogwarts will be starting in a very short while."

The Great Hall erupted with cheers and banging of tables.

"All right," Betty called. "The four of you—you know the entrance—"

"Coaches and the others will _stay behind_," Eric said forcefully.

Harry saw Ginny roll her eyes. "Does he expect us to join _you_?"

Harry didn't answer. The spell on the Chocolate Frog probably hadn't diminished yet. The Frog was jumping inside his stomach. What else could be the thing that was making his stomach feel so queasy?

"Harry?"

Harry looked back at Ginny's apprehensive eyes. "Hey—you told me you were okay," she said.

"I'm okay," Harry mumbled. He had expected this. He was less nervous than he had predicted, but he was still...nervous.

Ginny apparently sensed it. She threw her arms around Harry's neck and brought him close to her. "You can do it," she whispered, her breath tickling his ear.

Harry, stunned at first, slowly brought his arms up to embrace her—and a miraculous thing happened. All traces of anxiety slowly ebbed away. He let out his breath in a whoosh and fell limp in her arms.

"FIVE MINUTES!" Betty yelled.

Harry groaned just as Ginny broke away from him. She thus carefully removed his glasses without breaking eye contact with him, reminding Harry of the night he kissed her....

"That felt weird," Ginny said, her face flushed and her eyes twinkling, "hugging you with those breasts on you..."

Instead of feeling embarrassed, Harry laughed with her.

"LINE UP! YOU KNOW THE DRILL!"

Ginny gave him two thumbs up, which Harry returned along with a big grin. He already felt better as he joined Justin.

"That was cozy," Justin muttered airily as Harry fell in place beside him.

"Just shows that we're not complete ladies in this contest," Harry said, smiling.

"Hmm. Good point," Justin said, grinning knowingly.

Harry's heart was thumping loudly now, as though trying to break out of his ribcage. But it was more out of anticipation than nervousness, he knew. He took a deep breath and stretched his arms.

As though on cue, music blared from the stage. The drums and trumpets created a dramatic crescendo—upon hearing it, the audience cheered loudly.

"Ready, everyone," Betty said, her voice shaking.

Harry caught Ginny's eye. He gave her a determined, if not brave, sort of nod.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN," came Hermione's voice. "PRESENTING—THE CANDIDATES OF"—Harry took a last deep breath—"MISS—HOGWARTS!"

Just as the intro of their entrance song played, Justin made his way through the curtains. Tumultuous applause rang from the audience. Harry waited for two seconds, then—without thinking, without fretting about what he should or should not do—he swept the curtains with graceful arms and went out to greet the audience.

The first thing Harry noticed was that the audience was just a blur of motion and colors. There were applause, shouts and banging of tables, particularly on the left side of the audience, where he knew the Gryffindors were. He thought he heard his name being chanted. The teachers' table in front, meanwhile, was relatively hushed.

Harry glided across the stage, smiled widely and waved, then fell in place on the right side of the stage with one hand hung loosely on his hips and one leg bent outwards in front of him. He didn't feel the need to think about what to do—everything just came naturally.

More applause rang when Roger came strutting onstage. Then Malfoy followed, and the Slytherin table fell into riotous applause. Malfoy posed beside Harry and gave him the barest hint of a smirk with a toss of his long hair.

The music changed its pace. Justin took the cue and began their dance. Roger followed, then Malfoy; Harry, being on the other side of the stage, started dancing the last. _This is amazing,_ he thought when he realized that he knew everything by heart and that he was moving so smoothly. _I'm enjoying this. This is weird!_

The music changed its pace again. Malfoy took his cue. He walked towards the front, grinned widely and waved gracefully. "A pleasant evening!" he said in a high-pitched girly voice. "From the House of the greatest wizards and the most beautiful witches of all time—SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherins applauded loudly. Malfoy turned around stylishly and went back to his place.

Later on, Justin pranced to the front, his hips swaying, put both hands on his hips and tilted his head on one side. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said in a soft bedroom voice that was almost like a real lady's. He paused for effect—Harry had the impression that he was looking at the audience seductively. "You're in for a surprise. HUFFLEPUFF!"

Justin tossed his head and smiled. The Hufflepuffs cheered wildly. Harry was impressed—Justin was even better than Malfoy!

Then—Harry realized that _he_ was going up there in a few seconds.

Everything happened in a daze. Harry found his feet carrying him in front. He straightened his back, as though to show his new breasts, and raised an arm to wave at the audience with only his wrist moving. "Good evening," Harry/Harriet said huskily, giving them the open-mouthed grin Ginny had taught him. "I represent the House of the brave...the bold..." Harry assumed a different pose, one more seductive. "And the _daring_..." He raised both arms wide. "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindors stood up collectively and yelled themselves hoarse. Heartened, Harry gave them another wave and went back to his place.

Roger went to front after a short while. The audience gave a collective "Whoa!" as he did—no doubt surprised at the sight of Roger's new goodies. Harry's gaze fell on the teachers' long table in front of the audience. If Harry squinted, he could just make out Professor Dumbledore's face looking at Roger in amusement. Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, was staring, as though not believing that she was capable of teaching her students to do such damage to their bodies.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Roger—he sounded as though he was attempting to make his deep voice as husky and high-pitched as possible—"Only the most intelligent of the lot will win the crown. RAVENCLAW!"

Roger went back to his place. The four of them resumed dancing until the music ended, after which they stood to pose.

Hermione's voice came back up. "And now, presenting our hosts," she said. "Meg Leroux and Lee Jordan!"

Meg and Lee got up on stage through the stairs on either side of the stage. The two of them met on center and regarded each other with wide smiles.

"I'm green with envy," said Meg. She was, Harry knew, a seventh-year Ravenclaw.

"Oh?" Lee asked.

"Yes." Meg motioned to the four of them. "These girls are so pretty that all the boys in my House have their mouths hanging open at them!"

The Ravenclaws laughed. Roger waved at them, grinning.

"The thing is, our pretty ladies here won't be judged only by their looks and how they strutted up here just now. Coming right up is the talent portion," Lee said.

Meg nodded to the audience. "Yes. We also have the evening gown competition, _and_ the question-and-answer portion. The winner of Miss Hogwarts must prove herself—_himself_—not only beautiful, but also talented and witty."

"Precisely," said Lee. "The most versatile of them all will earn his—I mean _her_—House two hundred points. That goes along with a really pretty tiara and scepter."

The audience laughed.

"Oh, don't laugh just now," Meg said to them. "You have to admit that it took a lot of guts and determination for these four to be here tonight—just because they feel it is their duty to play a role in the building of the Hogsmeade Orphanage. Isn't that right, Miss Slytherin?" she added mischievously, turning to Malfoy.

Harry had to bite back a guffaw. He thought he heard Fred and George laugh first before the audience followed. Malfoy simply smiled, but right beside him, Harry knew that Miss Slytherin was seething inside.

"Right," said Lee. "I think it's time for these ladies to head backstage and prepare for the talent portion...meanwhile...let me introduce to you our judges..."

Harry didn't hear the rest. He was busy sighing with relief. The contest was barely over, he knew, but at least something was off his back just now.

He gave the audience a last wave as they applauded, then went backstage.

Ginny was waiting for him right there. She raised a hand for a high-five, which Harry gave to her. "You were great!" she gushed. "_Daring_ indeed!"

Harry laughed.

"That was great, Harry," said Cho, grinning widely. Betty and Hannah were nodding behind her.

"Thanks!" Harry said breathlessly.

"Okay, Harry," Ginny said excitedly just as Malfoy entered the backstage. "Talent portion! Come on!"

As Ginny grabbed his hand and led him to their corner in the backstage, muttering something about _Heaven at Midnight_, a thought hit Harry right then and there. It was an almost bizarre thought, as though it could only be a dream...and scary, too.

But it could happen.

He could actually win Miss Hogwarts.

_**Jenna's Notes:** Up next is the contestants' showcase of talents! Meanwhile, go to my site and under "images", look for the wonderful fanarts made for Miss Hogwarts. Gotta love Drag!Draco by AgiVega. More arts? I'm an email away! _


	13. Heaven at Midnight

** Miss Hogwarts**

_ Chapter Twelve  
Heaven at Midnight_

_After tonight,_ Ginny had sworn to herself earlier in the day, _nothing will change between Harry and me._

Ginny's incurably romantic mind had told her that Miss Hogwarts, and the preparation for it, was just the beginning of a glorious relationship with Harry Potter. She had been pessimistic just yesterday, yes, but she _had_ told him what she had always felt for him last night—and he had, too, although he had used Ron and utterly humiliated him. Wasn't that enough?

Nah.

Not if it was all going to end after the pageant.

"You done yet?" Ginny yelled presently, rapping on the door of one lavatory.

"Hang on a second," Harry hollered from inside.

Ginny crossed her arms across her chest in waiting until Harry opened the door. Strands of his long hair stuck onto different places of his face due to the effort of putting on the dress. It was the glittery black one they had chosen for the dance, which Harry was now donning rather carelessly.

"Can you zip this thing?" Harry said, motioning to his back.

"Turn around," said Ginny.

Harry did as he was told. Ginny fumbled with the zipper on the back of Harry's dress. She tugged at it upwards, past the bra that she had so unabashedly lent him without telling him it was hers. She lifted his hair and slid the zipper the rest of the way up, stopping just below his nape, which she noticed was unnaturally pink.

Ginny's hands hesitantly went downwards. But, owing to the fact that she just _had_ to do it, or else Harry would look disheveled onstage...her hands fell in place. And she silently yanked the dress so that it fit Harry around his hips.

"Okay," said Ginny, her cheeks feeling very warm indeed. She then led him to their corner, let him sit down on a chair, and came up with a box of fake diamond jewelry. She fitted the earrings, which had only clasps on them, on Harry's earlobes. Then she took his hand and put a bracelet around his wrist.

When she looked up, she saw Harry staring at her face. Blinking, she managed to ask, "What?"

Harry gave her a small smile. "Nothing."

It would have been a sweet, wonderful moment, if Harry weren't all dolled up and pretty. _Oh, how I love you,_ Ginny mentally told him, staring back as she arranged his hair in place.

Ginny was only vaguely aware of Lee Jordan and Meg Leroux talking in the background until the audience outside cheered. She and Harry had a fleeting sight of Roger coming out on the stage, wearing a pink ballet dress.

Ginny couldn't resist giving out a snort of laughter. She turned to Harry, whom she expected to be laughing as well, but he was just staring after Roger.

Ginny had a feeling that she knew why. "You're on in about...seven minutes, huh?"

Harry merely nodded nervously.

"Oh, come on—you made it through the entrance! This will be a breeze."

"Yeah, well..." Harry's eyes flickered towards something behind her. Ginny twisted around to find Ron pacing just outside the lavatories.

Ginny let out a heavy sigh and patted Harry's hand. "I'll be back in a second," she said, standing up to leave the backstage.

"Just be quick, all right?" Harry said warily.

Ginny nodded. "Of course."

Just then, music began playing outside, and the audience applauded once more for Roger.

When Ginny turned her back on Harry, she immediately felt her hands shaking. She resisted the urge to put both of them on her cheeks—at least, until she was out of Harry's sight.

She had just touched Harry Potter's arse.

* * *

When Malfoy came out of one of the cubicles to find Ron pacing, Harry saw that he regarded Ron with a disgusted look and went away with Pansy. Malfoy was clad in a glittering green top that only reached about an inch below the water balloons, and a silky sort of skirt down to his ankles.

Ron, meanwhile, didn't enter the loo. He was still pacing.

"You okay, Ron?" asked Harry, who had just peeked through the curtains to check what Roger was doing.

"Yeah," Ron grunted.

Harry didn't believe him for a second. Putting on his glasses, he took another peek at the stage. Roger was in his element. He wasn't really a good ballet dancer—not by a long shot—but his knack of entertaining the audience was phenomenal. The music he used wasn't classical; he used jazz instead, one that was appropriate for ballet dancing. At one point he did a pirouette with his arms above him, then glided on stage, and ended up with a split.

_Ouch._ Harry shuddered, wincing. He looked back at Ron. He was still pacing, and his shirt already wet through with sweat.

Harry took a deep breath and took his wand out of Ginny's bag. "Hold still," he told Ron, walking towards him. He then cast a Drying Spell on his clothes.

"Thanks," Ron muttered.

Harry eyed him apprehensively. "Hey. Do you realize we're about to embark on what could be the most embarrassing moment of our lives?"

"Yeah."

"Do you realize that after this, everyone could be teasing the two of us?"

Ron sniffed. "You have no idea."

"Do you realize that no matter what we do, what I just said _will_ happen?"

"Yeah..."

"So..."

Ron looked at Harry expectantly, as though reading his mind.

"I think we should...you know...give our all when we go out there...because we'll still be embarrassed. Better make the most out of it." Harry shrugged.

Trumpets blared, and Harry figured that Roger's performance was half over. He had about three minutes to go. His knees began to wobble. What was wrong with him? He had gone through the first part, hadn't he? Why was he nervous _now_?

He glanced at Ron—Ron's face had turned into a nasty green shade.

"Ron," Harry muttered frantically. "Hey—you need to—?"

Harry didn't get to finish the sentence. Ron abruptly ran into the loo and locked himself up. Harry heard him hurling out whatever he had for lunch.

"Oh, God," Harry mumbled, eyes wide as he stared at the stage. Roger was bending backwards, trying to reach the ground with his fingers. Harry would be called onstage any second now. He felt like a dozen Chocolate Frogs had started moving around his stomach.

"Where did Ron go?" Harry heard Ginny ask as she approached him. She had come back, carrying two bottles of Butterbeer.

"Retching," Harry said weakly, relieved to see someone who didn't look so anxious. He grabbed the bottle she handed him and took a long swig.

As if on cue, a pale Ron emerged out of the loo, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. Ginny tossed him the other bottle. "Thanks," he gasped.

"Ron," Harry said, "remember what I told you?"

Ron only nodded wordlessly.

Harry and Ginny caught each other's eyes. Both seemed to be anticipating doomsday.

Trumpets blared again, more loudly than ever. Harry took another long gulp of Butterbeer, imagining the liquid drowning the frogs in his stomach. Right when he finished the bottle, they heard a riotous applause from the audience, particularly on the left-center side where the Ravenclaws were.

"Here we go," said Harry, removing his glasses and handing them to Ginny, along with his bottle of Butterbeer.

"Wait," Ginny suddenly said, fishing something out of her pocket. The Ever-Equipped One came up with a little pot of lipstick. "Say 'ah'."

Harry obliged and let her put lipstick on him.

"That was Miss Ravenclaw in a tutu, dancing ballet," they heard Lee Jordan say. "What talent."

"I must say," Meg agreed. "I guess doing all those complicated moves in Quidditch taught Miss Ravenclaw a few things."

The audience chuckled. Harry silently begged her to joke more to stall for time.

"I'll have a look at those moves again in the next Ravenclaw match," Lee said. "But meanwhile, I'd like to introduce our next contestant, who is incidentally a Quidditch player too...."

Ginny finished retouching his lipstick. She pressed an unnaturally clammy hand on Harry's cheek. "Don't be nervous; it's all in the mind. Break a leg, Harriet."

Harry swallowed and nodded, not noticing Roger return to the backstage and the others congratulating him.

"Our next contestant," Lee went on, "is already famous in her own right." Harry winced at this point. So Lee and Meg had decided to use the feminine pronouns on the contestants. "Here in Hogwarts, she's our champion Seeker, and out in the wizarding world she's The Boy—I mean, the _Girl _Who Lived."

The audience let out an appreciative laugh. Harry, though certainly not amused, didn't say anything; he was busy taking deep breaths. Ron was doing the same beside him.

"Let's make the best out of this, all right?" Harry said again.

"Okay," Ron squeaked.

"My friends," Lee said solemnly—as he did so Harry suddenly felt his nervousness turn into something else. All the frogs miraculously disappeared, just like a while ago, in the entrance number. _"It's all in the mind,"_ Ginny had said, and Harry suddenly understood what she had meant.

"It is of greatest honor to introduce to you the side of Harry Potter we never knew. I give you—Miss..._Gryffindor_!"

To Harry's surprise, it was Ron who tugged at his hands. Harry stared at him just as they swept through the curtains. Ron was—it was impossible, but he _really_ was—grinning widely.

The audience gave out a loud hoot, but it was the shrieks of the girls that lingered. A girl yelled, "I LOVE YOU, RON!" and Harry _knew_ it wasn't Hermione.

Harry likewise smiled at the audience and waved gracefully. Ron then released his hand and crossed the stage on the other side, facing Harry.

Harry extended his left arm towards Ron, palm down and fingers curled. "You do look good, you know," he whispered.

"And you were the one who said I'm not attractive just last night," said Ron.

Harry cracked a smile. "I'm wearing a dress right now, darling."

The intro of _Heaven at Midnight_ played from somewhere unseen. It was their cue. As the first notes of the xylophones were heard, Harry and Ron did a complicated dance step towards each other, a cross between cha-cha and rumba. The audience went wild when their hands met. Harry and Ron grinned at each other. _Ginny is a genius,_ Harry thought.

Harry knew everything so well that everything just came out smoothly. But it was different this time. He and Ron had never danced this way before. It must have been the audience that charged him, or the realization that this was the stage, _this_ was Miss Hogwarts, and this was a contest.

Harry found that he was graceful and lively—and that he could _actually_ dance. Ron, meanwhile, was amazingly brilliant. They pulled off Ginny's choreography of Latino ballroom dances so flawlessly, so impressively. At one point, when Ron twirled Harry around twice, he caught Harry off-guard—right afterwards, he grabbed him by the waist and tipped him towards the ground. Harry's back ached a little when Ron pulled him back on his feet, but continued dancing, getting carried away by the catchy tune.

"Back, place, front, place, right, place, left, place"—Ginny's voice chanted in Harry's head as the bongo drums and marimbas were heard. He was only vaguely aware of the audience shouting madly. He was just dancing to his heart's content, as if nobody was watching.

Time flew by, and all too soon, the song ended. Harry's talent portion was over.

The Gryffindors went wild. Harry and Ron broke apart from their pose and bowed. Harry waved at them, breathing hard. Ron raised a fist to the air. Then they slipped out of the audience's sight.

He had done it. He hadn't missed a single step, nor became awkward at any point in the dance.

Miss Hogwarts, as far as Harry was concerned, was half over.

* * *

Hermione had rushed backstage right after Harry and Ron's dance. She promptly crushed them both in a mighty hug—which seemed impossible, given her size—as she laughed her heart out.

"You were _awesome_," she gushed. "_Amazing._ You never did it as good as that in your practices! It looked all so real—Harry, you were so graceful, I almost believed you were really a girl!"

Harry winced. "Come on, Hermione."

"SERIOUSLY! And you two were looking at each other as if you were really in love—"

Harry and Ron quickly jumped apart.

"—And all the Gryffindors were just amazed and...oh, you were _wonderful_!" She reached up again to hug Harry.

Harry hugged her back, feeling relieved. At least this part was over.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny rush to Ron and embrace him. "I knew you can dance, if you only had the right partner!" she told him teasingly.

"Yeah, yeah..." Ron was looking at Harry and Hermione, as though desperately trying to catch Hermione's attention.

Rolling his eyes, Harry broke away from Hermione, looked at her meaningfully, and motioned to Ron. Hermione only grinned even wider and rushed to him.

"Harry!" Ginny cried, smiling at him, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "I had no idea it would be as great as that."

"Told you I won't screw up."

Ginny grinned. "Okay, forgive me for not trusting you."

Harry didn't take his eyes off her. She really had no idea she was the one he had to thank for everything.

"Come on," said Ginny, grabbing his hand and leading him towards Roger, Cho and Hannah, who were watching through the curtains. Harry didn't notice Justin come out onstage, or hear Lee and Meg call him, but Justin was there now—and Harry couldn't help but be impressed. Justin was wearing a tuxedo top, a shiny sort of skirt and netted stockings. He was holding a cane and a top hat, and was singing and dancing cabaret. His voice was obviously forced, but he was not off-key or anything. In fact, Harry thought, he sounded great. What was even more remarkable was that Justin was dancing while singing, and was doing a perfectly good job of it.

The three Hufflepuffs in tuxedos that Harry had seen earlier turned out to be Justin's escorts. Justin was pretending to charm them while dancing—the audience went wild when Justin walked around one of them, eyeing him seductively, and slid his cane on his chin towards him. Harry had to admit that Justin was good.

"That's a Muggle dance," said Harry, staring at Justin. "Where'd he learn to do that?"

"Do you need to be reminded that Justin's Muggle-born?"

"Yeah, but...that's really amazing, what he's doing. Didn't know he can sing and dance."

Ginny looked at Justin thoughtfully. "Yes, he's good." Then she nudged him on one side of his hip. "But you were great, too."

She glanced behind them, at Malfoy and Pansy. Malfoy was wearing a thin green veil, held in place by a gold hoop. Pansy was putting bangles on his wrists. Apparently, Malfoy was going to do belly-dancing.

"What are you staring at, Weasley?" Pansy suddenly snarled. Malfoy turned around his chair to face her and Harry.

Ginny stiffened, but immediately graced them with a smile. "I was just wondering where the snake you'll be charming is," she told Malfoy, smirking. "Be careful—Harry the Parselmouth is here, and he could ruin your performance."

Harry looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, partly because she was one of the very few people who could make Draco Malfoy narrow his eyes murderously. Before Malfoy or Pansy could try anything, though, Harry put an arm around her.

He had done it easily, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He felt Ginny stiffen; then, almost immediately, her shoulders fell and her head rested on his upper arm. She looked up at him with an almost apologetic smile.

"Ahem."

The two of them looked up to see Ron and Hermione staring at them. Hermione was smiling. "You two look like you're best girl friends or something."

Ginny laughed and pushed herself away from Harry. Harry, however, was stunned. Acknowledging his feelings for Ginny was so easy for him that he even forgot he looked like a girl himself while he was doing so.

A loud cheer was heard from outside, signaling that Justin's performance was over. Malfoy stood up and, to Harry's glee, Malfoy looked extremely anxious. After a few seconds Justin and his three escorts appeared backstage and Hannah hugged each one of them.

"Good one," said Harry, giving Justin a thumbs-up.

"Thanks," Justin said, grinning. "That's one huge pain in the arse gone, eh?"

Harry couldn't agree more. Just then, Meg called Malfoy onstage, and Malfoy disappeared through the curtains to be greeted by loud applause and wolf-whistles.

"Shouldn't I be wearing that evening gown already?" Harry asked, turning back to Ginny.

"If you want," said Ginny. "We can wait, as there's an intermission number after Malfoy while everyone eats dinner. They're bringing food up here," Ginny added, obviously seeing Harry's disappointed face when he had thought they wouldn't be joining in the Halloween feast.

"Let me see the git dance," said Ron, pushing through the crowd to peek through the curtains. Harry and Ginny followed him. The music, sounding like something that came out of the _Arabian Nights_, had just begun.

Harry watched Malfoy stand on tiptoe and wave his arms about, going around in circles onstage so that all the silk on his clothes fluttered gracefully. Harry noticed, however, that Malfoy himself wasn't very graceful. Apparently Ginny thought the same; she looked up at him and grinned triumphantly.

"Ready for the question-and-answer?" she asked, moving away from the crowd towards the corner where she had arranged Harry's hair and makeup.

"I hope," Harry replied, sitting down across her. "I mean, I hope I can be witty out there."

"Well, it's really the answer that matters, isn't it? This is probably the only part where you're truly yourself out there."

Harry chuckled sardonically and glanced down his dress. "Oh, yeah. With this?"

Ginny only smiled in a wise manner. She picked up her bag and came up with a hand mirror. Then she reached out to brush his hair off his forehead and held the mirror in front of him. "Reality check, Harry," she said.

Harry stared at Ginny in confusion, then took the mirror. When he looked at his own reflection, he had to blink in surprise. For despite the new hair, the colored lips and the makeup, the one thing that stood out was his scar. It was there, a thin pink line on the right side of his forehead. It was something that even the concealer was not able to hide.

Harry looked back at Ginny, who took the mirror. She seemed to be struggling with something she had been holding back for a long time.

"It's been four weeks since I started working with you, Harry," Ginny went on quietly. She looked up to meet his eyes. "Despite all the cross-dressing, I...I still see you—the real you—in there." She glanced at his chest, where his heart was, and smiled warmly. She was almost biting her lip, and her cheeks were pinkish.

Harry felt his heart flutter against his ribs. Ginny had a way of looking into his eyes that made him feel that she was aware of his whole being. And by doing so—by those simple gestures, or by adding simple words—he became more aware of himself.

Ginny presently stood up. "I'll just...go see what they're up to," she said, patting his arm before joining Hannah and Cho in watching Malfoy. Ginny was easily the smallest among the three girls, and yet she stood out because of that flaming red hair. She didn't have Cho's delicate Asian features, nor Hannah's sweet face, but she had something else.

Ginny whispered something to Hannah and Cho, and the three of them laughed. And as Ginny threw her head back, Harry realized what was so special about Ginny: she burst with life, and her sensitive, caring soul poured out of her.

She was...what she truly was.

Ginny must have felt his eyes on her; she met his gaze, then cocked her head in a questioning manner. Harry felt his cheeks burn. He only wished there were enough makeup on him to hide his blushing face. He gave her a small smile, which she returned.

Harry felt his stomach do a cartwheel. It was a different feeling from the frogs in his stomach just before the entrance number or his dance number with Ron. It was somehow a more welcome sensation, but it made him even more nervous.

_I'm going to tell her,_ Harry vowed to himself. _Tonight. Right after Miss Hogwarts. It's now or never._

**Jenna's Notes:** Mush. Hooray. This chapter took quite a bit of research, I can tell you! I have to thank whoever choreographed _Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend_ in _Moulin Rouge_ and Natalie's dance in _Charlie's Angels_ for the inspiration. Justin and Harry couldn't have danced so well if it weren't for you. :) Many thanks to Alli and Kate for all the help, and you, my readers, for putting up with this silly fic.  
Next chapter we'll be seeing the question-and-answer portion and _perhaps_ the announcement of the winner. Will it be Harry? Will Harry be able to tell Ginny how he feels? It's a chapter you can't miss!  



	14. The Redheaded Dancer

**Miss Hogwarts**

_Chapter Thirteen  
The Redheaded Dancer_

"I have to hand it to you, Ginny," Hermione said between mouthfuls of potatoes. "You did a great job."

"Oh, all I did was teach Harry a few things," said Ginny, feeling a bit flattered. "It wouldn't have made a difference if he wasn't already so good at it."

Someone had conjured two tables, each for seven or eight people, in the backstage. For Ginny, it didn't matter that they weren't with the rest of the Gryffindors in the Halloween feast, for everyone backstage was having a good time—and they had more food for themselves, anyway.

Hermione lowered her voice. "It must have been an interesting four weeks for both of you, hmm?" she asked with a meaningful twinkle in her eyes.

"Well," Ginny said thoughtfully, "it depends on what you mean by interesting."

Hermione shrugged. "You learned new things," she replied slowly. "Modeling, makeup, dress..."

Ginny looked around to see if anybody was watching. She leaned close to Hermione. "Boxers, boobs and bums," she said quietly, mischievously. "How's that for interesting?"

Hermione ogled at her. "You've seen Harry in his _boxers_?"

Ginny felt the blood rush to her face. _Why_ did that single moment have to be recorded in her brain so vividly, and _why_ did she have to remind herself of it every now and then? "Yeah," she mumbled. "It was an...uplifting experience."

Hermione, of course, didn't understand, or else she would have shrieked out loud for Ron to hear beside her. Nonetheless Hermione looked at her in disbelief and perhaps, Ginny noticed, envy.

Ron and Harry were engaged in a deep conversation themselves. Ginny began to wonder if, after their phenomenal dance number, their relationship had gone to the next level.

The Cantilenas, a famous band in the wizarding world, struck up a catchy number onstage and earned cheers from the audience. Ginny half-expected them to get up and dance if only they weren't eating. She jiggled a foot under the table to the beat.

It was then when she caught Harry's gaze on her for what was probably the tenth time that night. And again, he averted his eyes and went back to listening to whatever Ron was saying. It was as though Harry wanted to tell her something badly, Ginny thought, but couldn't bring himself to because of the crowd. _What does he want?_ Ginny wondered.

Hermione reached over to Ron and twisted his wrist slightly so she could look at his watch. "Fifteen minutes," she muttered to Ginny. "You'd better get going."

Ginny hesitated, then stood up awkwardly. "Okay. Come on, Harry."

Harry downed the rest of his pumpkin juice and followed Ginny to their secluded corner. She handed him the green ball gown she had carefully chosen for him not too long ago in Hogsmeade. Ginny smiled to herself, recalling the day and how impersonal her relationship had been with Harry, unlike now....

Harry emerged from a cubicle a while later. While the dress had looked good on Harry in the dressing room in Gladrags, Harry looked even so much prettier now. The Snot Boobs really pulled the dress together and his hair floated down his shoulders, complimenting the sparkling pale green fabric.

Ginny then fitted a shimmering necklace on Harry's neck and matching earrings on both of his earlobes. Afterwards she secured his hair with pins so that it didn't fall all over his face. She wanted Harriet to look her best on this part of the competition—as this was the last time she'd ever romp onstage.

It was only as Ginny helped Harry put on gloves that she noticed something different about him. He looked—well, nervous was putting it mildly. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but not as if the dress made him itch or the makeup made him hot. It certainly didn't look like he felt... _that_ again either... but just to make sure, she glanced quickly at his lap and promptly turned red.

"Are you okay?" she squeaked. _How many times have I asked that today?_

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it...then opened it again, as though there was something he had been fighting to get out. Ginny raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Gin—you know...we've been, er, doing stuff together for a while now...." Harry's voice trailed off.

Something squeezed at Ginny's heart so hard that she thought it might not resume its beating. Was this what she had been waiting for all her life? She stared at him, wide-eyed; he stared back, made-up face flushed, mouth opening and closing in succession. Music was heard from outside, but the beat of the drums only reverberated in Ginny's ears without her really taking heed of it.

"Harry? Ginny?" Hermione suddenly interrupted. The two of them looked up sharply to see Ron and Hermione standing just behind Harry. Ron and Hermione seemed completely oblivious to what was happening between Harry and Ginny. Ginny inwardly groaned. Those two just had to interrupt on such perfect timing....

"You're on in five minutes, Harry," Hermione went on. "Ron will be with the audience. We'll see you after the show, all right?"

"So much for moral support," Harry said sardonically, but he was slightly smiling.

"Oh, come on," said Hermione, stooping over to hug him. "I know you'll win!"

Ginny thought Harry's cheek twitched when Hermione mentioned winning. He didn't say anything, though.

"See you later," said Ginny, nodding at Ron and Hermione. "And tell Dad I'll see him later."

Hermione and Ron left, leaving Ginny with Harry again. Justin's three escorts had also left already, and now there were only the contestants, their assistants, Betty Sparks and Eric Slevin left backstage.

Harry turned to her again. "You don't mind me losing, do you?"

_No, but I do mind losing you,_ Ginny said in her head. Wincing inwardly at such a cheesy line, she reached out to squeeze his arm gently. She loved doing so. Somehow it comforted her as much as she hoped the simple gesture would do the same to him. She shook her head. "Just do your best," she whispered sincerely.

Harry only looked back at her helplessly. He looked so vulnerable then. Ginny wanted to do more than touch his arm, but another look passed in Harry's eyes—it was the look he had given her when he had tried to tell her something. He suddenly made a quick movement, as though he was about to take hold of her hand, but then—

"I hope you haven't filled yourself to bursting yet," Lee suddenly announced outside, "because we still have a lot in store for you."

"Lee's right," said Meg. "I expect our stomachs will be aching in no time."

Amidst the cheers outside, Ginny hurriedly took off Harry's glasses and arranged his hair one last time. Then, almost out of impulse, she seized his hands and looked at him fiercely in the eyes. "Look—no matter what happens, no one's going to think badly of you. Just do what you can."

Harry nodded, quickly but resolutely—or at least Ginny hoped he was resolute. She bit her lips anxiously as he fell in place behind Malfoy. Malfoy was in a backless navy blue dress with a halter collar and sequined patterns in front. Amusingly enough, he looked nervous enough not to throw a jeer at Harry.

Ginny suddenly became aware of Meg's voice and the background music that was mainly made of violins and a saxophone. "—And now—presenting once again—the candidates of Miss Hogwarts in their evening gowns."

This time, Roger came out first. He had on a strapless lilac dress that fitted his girlish figure so well it was scary.

"Miss Ravenclaw," read Lee from a cue card as Roger crossed the stage, posing every once in a while, "is a well-known seventh year of the very dateable kind. She stands six feet, and tonight has genuine vital statistics of 36, 24, 36."

The audience snorted in laughter. Ginny could see Professor McGonagall's nose flare.

Malfoy came out next. Looking through the curtains, Ginny saw him sweep across the stage graciously.

"Miss Slytherin's generous spirit has put on record her desire to help the orphans by joining this contest," said Lee. "Just like a true Slytherin, her greatest ambition is to win this contest and for her posters to grace the halls of the Hogsmeade Orphanage."

Harry caught Ginny's eye. She gave him a firm thumbs-up.

Meg spoke next. "Now we have—Miss Gryffindor."

Harry slipped through the curtains and greeted the audience with a wide smile and a sweep of his arms.

"There is little else to know about famous Miss Gryffindor," said Meg. "She is a converted Chudley Cannons fan and a Chocolate Frog addict." _Where did that come from?_ thought Ginny. "One of her favorite pastimes is sneaking out at midnight and creating commotion in her Divination classes."

Luckily Professor Trelawney wasn't on the professors' table. Ginny saw Snape sneer malevolently, though.

Justin came out the last, grinning widely. "And last but certainly not the least, Miss Hufflepuff." Justin was wearing a simple peach gown with a sash on his arms and a large flower on his hair. Ginny shook her head in awe—Justin looked _beautiful_.

"Miss Hufflepuff confesses that she loves singing and dancing," Meg went on. "She is a pro on stage performances, and she once became the star of a production when she was still attending a Muggle school. I doubt the production is all about cabaret dancing, though," she added cheerfully.

Now the four contestants stood side by side in the middle of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen," said Meg, "the four contestants of Miss Hogwarts." The audience politely clapped. When the applause died, Meg turned to Lee. "Now what's coming up next is decidedly the most important part of the whole Miss Hogwarts contest. As I had said earlier, a real beauty queen is not only pretty, charming and talented, but also intelligent and witty."

"That's right," said Lee. "To remind everyone, forty percent of a contestant's final score comes from his—er, _her_ question-and-answer score—which we'll be holding right now.

"Our judges will be giving questions to our contestants individually, but the four of them will be scoring each of the contestants. Our candidates will pick a judge from this bowl"—Lee produced a small bowl with four strips of parchment inside—"and will have a minute to answer the question asked to them."

Ginny hadn't noticed the judges before, but now she could see them clearly, seated in the middle of the professors' table. Two of them were stylish-looking women, although one looked older. The one sitting between them was a balding, smiling wizard. Beside the younger witch sat Madam Hooch, flanked on the other side by Professor Dumbledore.

Ginny felt her throat constrict. Harry had one minute. Looking at him now, she noticed that he wasn't smiling at the audience anymore. He was nervous. But then again, who wouldn't be, if the audience were looking so tense with anticipation?

"For our first contestant," Lee announced, "Miss Ravenclaw, if you please."

Roger joined Lee and Meg in front of the stage. Lee handed him a bouquet of daisies, which Roger took, smiling.

"Miss Ravenclaw, if you don't mind me asking something that has interested me all evening," Lee began. "Who did...um, your chest?"

_"These?"_ Roger thrust his transfigured breasts outward. "Don't you believe they're genuine?"

"Well!" Lee laughed. "I never thought...anyway, please pick your judge, Miss Ravenclaw."

Roger fished a piece of parchment from the bowl and read: "Madam Hooch, Hogwarts flying professor."

Madam Hooch nodded. Unlike Professor McGonagall, Madam Hooch looked plainly amused at Roger's transfigured body. "So, Mr. Davies—sorry. Miss Ravenclaw," she corrected herself. "What do you think is your greatest asset?"

_"These!" _Roger exclaimed, thrusting his chest out once more. The audience roared in laughter. "No, seriously," he went on. "It's my friends from Ravenclaw that are my greatest assets. Among other things, they transfigured my body for this event."

The Ravenclaws cheered wildly. Several girls chorused, "Go Roger!"

"I just hope they know how to put your body back to normal," Meg laughed. "Thank you, Miss Ravenclaw. Now we have—Miss Slytherin!"

Roger went back to his place as Malfoy sauntered to the front, his hips swaying. Lee handed him a bouquet as well, but Ginny thought she detected a look of loathing passing between the two of them. Ginny wasn't too surprised—she knew for a fact that Lee often announced Malfoy's deliberate fouls to the crowd during Quidditch matches.

"Miss Slytherin," said Meg as Lee gave Malfoy a bouquet. "I heard that it took quite a lot of convincing before you decided to join Miss Hogwarts. So how did you finally make up your mind?"

"Oh, it was the thought of helping others by joining such a...thoughtful and interesting contest that got me," said Malfoy sweetly, batting his eyelashes to the crowd.

"Of course," said Lee, smirking, "'helping is a good thing,' right?"

Malfoy gave Lee a sneer to match. "Indeed it is."

"Very well," said Meg. "Please pick your judge."

Malfoy's judge turned out to be "Miss Phoebe Theola, managing editor of the _Teen Witch_ magazine."

"Miss Slytherin," said the younger, raven-haired witch among the judges. "What do you think is the best advice given to you for Miss Hogwarts, and why?"

Malfoy pursed his lips—and this simple gesture deeply bothered Ginny, because at that point Miss Slytherin looked so stylish that she could have been prettier than Miss Theola. "The best advice?" Malfoy finally said. "I suppose...it's to keep in mind the orphanage whenever I'm onstage. Because if—_when_ I win, it will be for them."

The Slytherins cheered madly. _Yeah right,_ Ginny thought, snorting. _Trying to capture the audience's sympathy, aren't you?_

"I'll be looking forward to that," said Lee, smiling in a discreetly sardonic way. "Thank you so much—ladies and gentlemen, Miss Slytherin."

With a last pose, Malfoy went back to his place. Ginny's eyes fell on Harry, and her stomach gave a horrible lurch. She could almost feel Harry's nerves. She saw Harry take a deep breath as Meg announced, "Now for our next contestant—Miss Gryffindor!"

Harry strutted towards Lee and Meg, then waved towards the Gryffindors. "Miss Gryffindor," Meg grinned at him as Lee handed him a bouquet. "So how did you manage to look so pretty up here tonight?"

Harry smiled back sweetly. "It comes out naturally," Harriet said.

Ginny bit her lip to prevent herself from snickering with the audience.

"It sure does, Harry—er, I mean, Miss Gryffindor," said Lee, coughing. "Er...just pick a piece of parchment, go on..."

Ginny crossed her fingers as Harry picked up a strip of paper and read. "Madame Sophia Clotho of Gladrags Wizardwear," he announced.

Madame Clotho cleared her throat. "Good evening, Miss Gryffindor." Harry nodded graciously. "For my question—what is the best lesson you learned in Miss Hogwarts?"

The question was predictable enough, and yet Ginny never asked it to Harry in their mini question-and-answer sessions together. Ginny groaned inwardly. What would _ she_ answer to that? Her mind was blank at the moment; meanwhile Harry, looking a bit uncomfortable as his eyes swept the audience, was silent for a few seconds, just like everybody else waiting for his answer.

Ginny began to panic. Was it possible that he didn't know how to answer, either?

Just when the tension in Ginny's nerves reached a peak, Harry spoke, and he said words that Ginny never thought Harry would confess to such a crowd.

"I learned that...makeup, dresses...all that vanity...aren't what being a girl is all about."

Harry paused; Ginny was wringing her hands so hard that they were numb. "Girls are sensitive and thoughtful...and they want to be appreciated for what they are."

Ginny let out a huge sigh of relief. But Harry wasn't done yet. He went on, "And they're devoted to whatever they set their minds to—they're devoted to their work, and...to people."

Ginny felt her lips curve into a smile.

"Are you presently devoted to anyone?" Lee asked jokingly. "A tall, redheaded dancer, perhaps?"

Everyone in the Gryffindor table laughed. Several of them nudged Ron, who looked deeply disturbed even from far away.

However, Harry merely let out a mischievous half-smile. "Yes...it's a redheaded dancer," he replied.

"Oooooh," the audience jeered. Ron became even more visible from far off since his face had turned beet red—he was scowling at Harry.

"I'll certainly look forward to developments regarding your, er, devotion," Lee said, grinning. "Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Gryffindor!"

Ginny clapped as hard as the rest of the Gryffindors. This was Harry's last chance to claim the Miss Hogwarts crown, and he did a good job. A bit feminist, she thought, but isn't that what Miss Hogwarts was partly about? And he used wits, too—

Then it suddenly occurred to her.

Ginny's hand reached upwards hesitantly to touch her hair. It was a widely known fact, but strangely she had never been as happy of it as she was presently.

She had red hair.

* * *

"Miss Hufflepuff, you are admittedly one of the unlikeliest Hufflepuffs to join this Miss Hogwarts," Lee told Justin. "What exactly did it take to put you here onstage tonight?"

"Ten Galleons." The audience laughed; Justin giggled prettily. "No, seriously...my housemates tried everything until I finally agreed to no terms. Then I eventually learned to like being a contestant!"

Harry was strongly reminded of himself—although he didn't know if he really learned to _like_ being Miss Gryffindor. He had just pulled himself through everything, did his best...and now, in less than a quarter hour, the contest would be over.

It was almost over. Harry felt himself sighing in relief. He had managed to rid himself and Ron of stage fright, and had landed on an answer after quite a while just now. So many impossible things had just happened, and now he only had to wait.

"We have only one judge left, who is of course Mr. Aaron Custodis, founder of the Hogsmeade Orphanage."

Harry saw Justin smile at Mr. Custodis in the way Malfoy, Roger, and probably Harry himself had to their respective judges.

"Good evening, Miss Hufflepuff," said Mr. Custodis. "If you were suddenly turned into a real girl tonight"—the audience reacted violently to this—"what would be the first thing you'd do?"

Harry wondered what he would answer to that if he had been the one asked. A while ago when he was in front, he didn't know what to answer at first—in fact, he wasn't even sure if he heard the question correctly. Then his mind had wandered around—what was the greatest lesson he learned in the past four weeks? How to put on a bra the right way? That boys couldn't resist girls who are "full of life"? To bring a pillow when a girl shaves your legs?

After a few agonizing moments, his thoughts had fallen on one person—and he had suddenly known the answer.

Justin, meanwhile, didn't hesitate at all. In a girl voice he said, "Well... I don't think we boys—because I'm really a boy, you know," he added, grinning. "I don't think we'll ever fully understand what girls mean about how... they're being given all that's difficult in humankind, if you know what I mean. So what I'd do... is wait for a while until the female me gets married and have a child or two."

Everyone laughed loudly, until Justin went on: "I think being a mother is one of the toughest things in the world and I'd like to feel what it's like, to understand...just how strong women really are."

The whole audience, obviously impressed, applauded Justin. Even Harry felt himself clapping along, although his gloves muffled any sound he was making.

"Very good, Miss Hufflepuff," said Meg, beaming at Justin. Justin curtsied, waved at the audience, then went back to Harry's side.

"Nice one," Harry muttered.

"It came out naturally," Justin whispered back, winking.

"And that was the question-and-answer portion of Miss Hogwarts," Lee announced. "The most important part of them all. Now while we're waiting for the judges to compute the final scores with the help of Professor Vector, our Arithmancy professor, the Cantilenas will be...serenading our four... lovely contestants for the last time."

Harry found that his smile right then was just a fake one, plastered on his face for the sake of it. He was hot all over, his feet were already killing him, and a curl had escaped one of the pins on his hair. The Cantilenas, a four-man band, ascended the stage, bringing acoustic guitars and bongo drums with them. Then three of them started playing a song, while one of them, apparently the lead singer, approached them, holding an ancient-looking microphone which Harry knew only worked with magic.

_"They read you Cinderella, you hoped it would come true.... That one day your Prince Charming would come rescue you..."_

The lead singer approached Harry and Justin, grinning at them. The two boys smiled back at him, Harry in a very forced manner. Harry groaned to himself. He didn't like this at all. He brushed a stray hair away and straightened his pose, wondering how long he would have to wait before the winner was announced.

_The winner._

Harry gave himself a mental shake. What was wrong with him? He knew someone had to win...but almost forgetting that someone had to....

_"I can love you like that, I would make you my world,"_ the lead singer warbled. The guitarists and the drummer had joined him in singing. _"Move heaven and earth...if you were my girl..."_

Harry squinted towards the judges. He could just make out the four judges and Professor Vector nodding in unison. Then Professor Vector went back to Professor McGonagall's side. Professor McGonagall seemed to ask the Arithmancy professor something, but Professor Vector simply shook her head.

Harry felt his heart skip a beat. They had a winner, he knew it.

_"I can, I can love you,"_ came the last few lines of the song. _"I would give you my heart, my heart my heart my world...show you you're everything...."_

The Cantilenas bowed to the audience as they cheered. Harry saw Madam Hooch hand an envelope to Meg. There was no need to ask what it contained.

Lee and Meg went up onstage just as the band left. "Bet you loved that, didn't you?" Lee said in a lively voice. "Bet you're also excited to hear our next announcement!"

The Great Hall exploded with cheers, the loudest ever that evening. Everyone knew what was coming.

"My announcement," said Lee, "is to inform everyone that contrary to hearsay, Professor McGonagall says that classes will not be suspended tomorrow morning." The students let out a collective groan. "Life goes on, people."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Meg said, and she really looked it.

"Me too," Lee agreed. Then he dramatically took a deep breath. "My next announcement...is the winner of Miss Hogwarts."

"YEAH!" the audience yelled, but the noise level in the Great Hall failed to register in Harry's brain. All night he never felt as nervous as he did at that moment.

"To give out the award is our very own headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore...to be assisted by Mr. Aaron Custodis..."

The two men went up the stage amidst the loud applause of the students. Harry saw Dumbledore beam at them, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Dumbledore was carrying a pillow with a tiara perched on top of it. Mr. Custodis, meanwhile, was holding a velvet purple cape with fur linings.

Harry nervously fingered the bouquet. He had come this far, and he knew he didn't do bad at all. But then again, everybody else—Justin, Roger, and even Malfoy—was good, too.

But wasn't it possible that _he_ would turn out to be the best among them? It sounded absurd to want to win in a drag contest, yes, and to think about wearing that tiara and cape was even more ridiculous... but Harry suddenly realized that he wanted the title. He wanted to be Miss Hogwarts. It _was_ possible, wasn't it?

"And the winner..." Lee tore open the envelope and eyed its contents seriously. Then he broke into a grin. He showed it to Meg, who smiled back and nodded.

"...Is..." Harry felt his stomach churn madly—wasn't it possible?—

_"Miss..."_

Harry momentarily closed his eyes, and as he did he heard Ginny's soothing voice in his ear: _"No matter what happens..."_

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry's eyes snapped open. Did he hear right? But the sight of everyone in the Hufflepuff table standing up in unison, yelling madly, confirmed it.

Justin had won.

Justin's mouth was gaping open in shock. The Hufflepuffs chanted "Justin!" and "Go Hufflepuff!" alternately. The rest of the audience clapped politely. Harry saw everything in a daze.

He had lost Miss Hogwarts.

Yet strangely, he wasn't thinking of the House points, or simply the fact that he had lost in something that many people felt confident he'd win. He was thinking of Ginny and all her efforts...all of them, wasted....

"Congratulations, Miss Hufflepuff," said Meg, beaming at Justin, who had lost all poise and hauled himself towards the front in a boyish gait, hiking his dress up. He flashed a two-thumbs-up to the Hufflepuffs, mouthing "YEAH!"

Dumbledore fitted the tiara on Justin's head. The tiara, simple and diamond-studded, looked out of place with the large flower on Justin's head.

Harry's eyes wandered towards the Gryffindors. He couldn't see them clearly enough to be sure, but they seemed to be cheering for him. He grinned at them and slightly shrugged his shoulders; the noise from their direction became louder. Then he caught Lee's eye, and Lee winked at him.

Ginny was probably right. No one would think badly of him.

Then he wondered what _she_ would think.

* * *

Ginny had wanted to rush onstage and hug Harry when the winner was announced. The way his face had fallen broke her heart. It was like seeing him lose a Quidditch match, albeit with a dress and long hair.

Now Harry slipped through the curtains with Roger and Malfoy. Malfoy looked extremely put out that Ginny almost pitied him. Roger, meanwhile, seemed to take everything in good spirits—Cho had rushed to embrace him, and he only grinned cheerfully.

Harry, meanwhile, was squinting around. He spotted her, and hesitated before approaching her.

Ginny rushed towards him. More because she didn't know what else to do, than because she had to do it, she pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at his face. "Don't move," she said. _"Deletrius!"_

Harry's makeup disappeared. Harry smiled gratefully and reached inside his dress to pull out of the Snot Boobs.

"Keep those for remembrance," Ginny told him, grinning. "Can I also have my—_I mean_—!" She suddenly felt her cheeks burn.

"Your what?" Harry asked quietly.

Ginny bit her lip. "That..." She made a gesture over her chest.

Harry's jaw dropped open. He looked down on his own chest, then back at Ginny in bewilderment. "This... is _yours_?"

Ginny shook her head, still biting her lips. She and Harry gazed into each other's eyes, both of their faces very pink. Then Ginny burst into a fit of giggles.

Harry chuckled and turned around to let Ginny undo the bra strap. She took her lacy peach bra out of his dress and immediately stuffed it inside her robes, grinning at Harry embarrassedly.

Harry smiled, looking very self-conscious himself. But Ginny was in plain sight of the self-disappointment in his deadened eyes, and her heart wrenched just by seeing them.

Harry's smile slowly faded. He slumped his shoulders in defeat. "I'm sorry," he said in a whisper.

"Oh—_Harry_," she sighed, She wasn't able to prevent herself this time—she gathered him into an embrace. "It's okay."

Then, slowly, she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her closer. Ginny found herself sighing against his chest. Couldn't this last forever?

Harry's hands were suddenly on her shoulders. She looked up at him. It seemed as though in the brief time they had embraced, his hair had gone back to its original length—but it was when she gazed into his eyes that her breath caught in her throat. Without his glasses, his brilliant green eyes shone and revealed everything that he could have told her that night, unhidden to her at that single moment. She felt, rather than saw, that he was breathing haggardly. It was enough for her to know what he had been meaning to say all night—

"HARRY!"

Harry and Ginny sprang apart. Fred and George had marched backstage, and upon seeing Harry pulled him and shook his hand hard.

"Ah, now why are you back to normal?" George said disappointedly. "We loved you in drag!"

Fred picked up the Snot Boobs from the floor. "The secret of Harry's beauty!" he declared, waving them up in the air.

"Come on, Harry," George said, tugging at his arm. "The party's not over!"

Harry wordlessly let the twins drag him away.

"Wait!" Ginny suddenly shouted.

Harry whirled around to face her. This time it was Ginny who was trying to force words out of her mouth, but for the life of her couldn't... but then again, she didn't know what to say.

"You..." she stammered. "You...your...your glasses."

Harry just stared at her. Ginny wished the floor could swallow her right then and there. Just when circumstances called her to be a true Gryffindor, the little girl who put her elbow in the butter dish with Harry Potter watching resurfaced. She clumsily dug in her pockets and held Harry's glasses for a fraction of a second, savoring the feeling of the cool lenses against her palm...then quietly handed it to Harry.

"Come on!" George said again. Harry, still wearing that gown which now looked ridiculous on him, had barely gotten hold of his glasses when the twins dragged him out of the backstage.

Glumly, Ginny picked up her bag and, with a last look at the backstage, joined the rest of the Gryffindors in the Great Hall.

"Awesome! Perfect! Really great!" Seamus shouted.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Harry!" said Dean.

Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder. "We still have the Quidditch matches, don't worry!"

Harry was now surrounded by several adults, including Hagrid, Mr. Weasley, and Professors Lupin, McGonagall and Dumbledore.

"Excellent performance, Harry," said Dumbledore, beaming down on him. "Now don't look so glum about it! Nice eyebrows, by the way...."

Professor Lupin shook Harry's hand hard. Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, looked at Dumbledore witheringly.

"Ah, there's my daughter!" her father suddenly said, grinning her way. Ginny returned his bear hug. "Hey, I missed you," he said.

"You too, Dad," Ginny said sincerely.

"So tell me," her father said, eyeing her and smiling. "When did you learn how to put on makeup?"

"Just this month," Ginny replied, grinning.

"Really? I thought Harry looked really pretty, with your help." He peered down on her. "He didn't find it awkward, did he?"

_Awkward? Oh, just this afternoon, he was definitely awkward with it._ "Er, no," Ginny said quickly. "He was great, really...." _A great kisser, too, if I may add. _

"You must have gotten to know each other a lot better, then."

Ginny ignored her dad's mischievous gaze. "Yeah." _Wish he only knew what it means to me, though,_ she added in her head.

* * *

Ginny had feigned sleepiness at half past midnight while the rest of the Gryffindors carried on partying in the Common Room. She had found that she had little to add to the still ongoing conversations about getting Harry all made-up and pretty.

Because, in truth, most of what had happened in the past four weeks were only between her and Harry.

Harry didn't try to stop her as she trudged upstairs and bid everyone goodnight. He simply fixed her in an unreadable gaze. Oh, she badly wanted him to finish what he had been trying to tell her, and at one point she had almost marched towards him to ask. But she was just afraid. She had always been, when it came to her feelings for him....

She walked into her dormitory and closed the door behind her. She dropped her bag on the floor and resignedly climbed onto her bed. She lay on her back, thinking that she should give Harry back the gowns he had used tomorrow, so he could give them back to Gladrags on their next Hogsmeade visit.

_Maybe tomorrow,_ she told herself, closing her eyes. _Maybe tomorrow we'd talk, and nothing will change...._

She was suddenly jerked awake by something that fell on her stomach. Blinking, she registered that she had been dozing for quite some time now—but her roommates weren't in yet, so she must have been sleeping for only a few minutes.

Ginny sat up, and her gaze fell on the large white box that had been so rudely dropped on her. She looked around her and saw a snowy owl perched on top of her bedside drawers.

"Hedwig!" Ginny exclaimed.

Harry's owl flew towards her. Ginny stroked the top of Hedwig's head. Hedwig let out a hoot, nipped at her finger gently, then sailed out of the room through the partly opened window. One of her roommates must have left it open.

Ginny's eyes followed Hedwig as the owl disappeared into the night. Then, feeling rather confused, she looked down the box on her lap. She didn't remember having sent for anything, and yet here was this package—sent by Hedwig—_Harry's_ owl—

Hadn't Harry said earlier in the morning that he had sent a quick owl?

Rather abruptly, Ginny tugged at the orange ribbon that held the box, opened it—and gasped.

In semi-darkness, she beheld the dress that she had so hungrily stared at in Gladrags, when she and Ron had helped Harry pick his dresses. With unsteady hands, she took the dress and held it up against the moonlight.

The white fabric shimmered into a lovely pale gold color when she shifted it slightly. She stood up and held it against her body. It reached down to just above her knee. It was definitely a perfect fit.

Still feeling quite shocked, Ginny saw a folded piece of parchment on her bed. It must have fallen out of the box when she took the dress out. She sank back down on her bed and unfolded the letter.

Almost immediately, she felt her eyes well up with tears.

_Ginny,_

I'm sorry I lost. Maybe I'm not really worthy of any beauty pageant title.

Not while there's a girl like you around, anyway.

Harry

Ginny fell back on her pillow, blinked her tears away, and whispered a silent prayer of thanks.

* * *

**Jenna's Notes:** Say it with me, people: _"Awwwwwwww...mush!"_

The lovely song _I Can Love You Like That_ is sung by All-4-One. I don't own it, duh.

Many thanks to my betas, Kate and Alli! Kate was responsible for Ginny's line, "uplifting experience," and the bra scene here. :-) Alli's keen eye helped a lot in this chapter—do her a favor and PLEASE, if you may, draw a fanart of Harry and Ron dancing. It will be very useful in the epilogue...

More updates, fanarts, et. al.? Go to my LiveJournal (**livejournal.com/~ladyofthesnitch**) and website (**jenna.bekkis.com**).

Yes, this fic is not over yet. Wait for the epilogue. :-)


	15. The Winner

**Miss Hogwarts**

_Epilogue  
The Winner_

**HOGWARTS A BAD INFLUENCE TO ITS STUDENTS**

The end does not justify the means, _writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent to Witch Weekly_. And the fact that the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry students are raising funds for the Hogsmeade Orphanage does not justify the fact that they held a revoltingly suggestive drag show in front of the whole school on Halloween night.

"Miss Hogwarts," as the drag show was called, featured four Hogwarts students from its different houses seducing fellow males and sporting female assets.

The contest reeked of anti-feminism and the degradation of morals among the Hogwarts students. It set a bad example for those watching, especially the first-years, who were apparently watching in disbelief.

The winner, Justin Finch-Fletchey from Hufflepuff, danced cabaret with three housemates while wearing what could have made his mother faint in shock. The author seriously could not understand why the boy was declared the winner. The judges must have played favorites among the contestants.

Roger Davies of Ravenclaw had transfigured his own body, giving himself a female figure that certainly disgusted everyone present. Harry Potter, meanwhile, did a very gross dance number with his friend Ron Weasley (see picture on the left).

Only Draco Malfoy of the Slytherin house managed to stay conservative. By doing an Arabian dance, he showed ingenuity and an appreciation of Eastern culture.

Ron did not bother to read the rest of the article. "I thought you'd shut Skeeter up for good," he grumbled at Hermione, disgustedly throwing the copy of _Witch Weekly_ on the floor of the common room. "'Appreciation of Eastern culture', honestly!"

Hermione smiled at him smugly. "Well, that's what the _Witch Weekly_ says," she said. She handed Ron the _Daily Prophet_ she had been keeping among her books. "Somebody else thought otherwise. Honestly, don't you read the papers?"

"Not when I was feeling groggy all morning," Ron muttered. 

"I wonder why," said Fred, grinning at Ron and Hermione, as he and George came over to read the _Daily Prophet_ with Ron.

**HOGWARTS PAGEANT A SUCCESS  
Miss Hogwarts raises 596 G for orphanage**

"Maybe the writer of that article swings both ways and liked what he saw," said Fred.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why don't you just keep on reading?"

The immensely successful Miss Hogwarts held last night raised 596 Galleons and four sickles for the construction of Hogsmeade Orphanage.

Organized by the prefects of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Miss Hogwarts is a beauty pageant where a male representative from each of the four Houses competed for the distinction of being called the best drag dresser in school.

"It was all pretend," said Betty Sparks, the Hufflepuff House prefect. "Rest assured that they're still the boys we've always known they are."

The money raised comes from the ticket sales. After the _Prophet_ released an article last Monday, many outsiders came to Hogwarts to watch the event. "We raised more money than expected because of the ones who watched the contest, apart from the students," said Eric Slevin, prefect of the Slytherin house.

Justin Finch-Fletchey of the Hufflepuff house bested Draco Malfoy (Slytherin), Roger Davies (Ravenclaw) and Harry Potter (Gryffindor) to win the title, which earned his house two hundred points.

"The contest was very interesting to begin with, and I applaud the contestants for showing such guts to go drag in front of everyone of a cause," said Mr. Aaron Custodis, the founder of Hogsmeade Orphanage.

"The money raised by the Hogwarts students will be used partly to build the boys' wing of the orphanage," Mr. Custodis further said. "The rest of it will be used to buy those poor children beds, and perhaps books."

"It sounded like an absurd idea at first," Paul Arden, Ravenclaw prefect, admitted to the _Prophet_. "But after some planning, everyone learned to enjoy it."

"We'll never look at the four contestants the same way again," said Hermione Granger, prefect of Gryffindor House. "But if you ask them, I'm sure they'd say that it was all worthwhile in the end."

"Has Harry already read this?" asked George as he and Fred read the rest of the article.

"Oh yes," said Hermione, smiling. "And believe me, he looked really happy about it, especially when he read that part about the money going to the beds and books for the orphans. You know that silly smile he sometimes wears, Ron?"

Ron nodded. "That's really...great," he said. He looked a little awestruck.

Hermione nudged him on the side. "See? You did something good, after all."

"And face it, Ron," Fred teased. "That picture of you and Harry on the _Witch Weekly_ is priceless."

"Harry looks about to kiss you here," said George, eyeing the _Witch Weekly_ article.

Ron ignored the twins. "Where's Harry, anyway?" he asked.

Hermione had been aware of Harry's absence in the Common Room that evening, but when she realized that his former talent coach and overall assistant was also missing, she decided it was better to forget about her job as Gryffindor prefect for once.

She shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "Probably in the, er—bathroom, figuring out a way to get the hair on his legs to grow back."

Ron shook his head with revulsion. "Never have I thought that you girls actually think about such things."

Hermione hid a mischievous grin behind her Arithmancy book. _Oh, you have no idea,_ she thought.

* * *

Ginny's face was partly hidden by the shadows that her hair cast around her face under the dim torchlight. Yet Harry could see that she was smiling up at him in that secretive way that never failed to make him want to look deeply into those eyes and read what was going on in her mind.

"Why did you give it to me?" Ginny asked softly.

Harry wasn't sure he understood himself enough to know why, either. "I guess I...just wanted to."

"It's not a thank-you gift, is it?"

"No—it's more than that," Harry said. Despite all the things that he wanted her to know, he simply couldn't find the words. Instead, he took a deep breath and repeated, "It's...much more than that."

Ginny cocked her head on one side. "This isn't Harriet talking, is it?"

Harry blinked. "Ginny—" he started to protest, but Ginny cut him off by taking his hand.

"I'm kidding," she said, her eyes gleaming with silent laughter. Then, in a whisper, she told him, "It has always been you."

A smile slowly spread across Harry's face. And although he had been holding his breath in anticipation, he patiently waited as Ginny shyly placed her hands on his shoulders. With a last sweet smile, she reached upwards and pressed her silky lips on his.

Harry closed his eyes just as his hands cupped her face, his lips parting to welcome hers, his fingers threading her soft hair, letting the flood of emotions already known to him wash over his whole being. This was what he had meant in his letter. No other girl—pretending or otherwise—could ever compare to the one he was touching at that very moment.

Losing Miss Hogwarts didn't matter at all, for after all the preparations, he ended up with something far, far better than that tiara or two hundred House points. He had done what he could, he had showed the school that he took commitments—even silly ones—seriously, he had done his part for the orphanage... and most importantly, he had Ginny.

_Wait, who am I kidding?_ Harry thought, smiling against Ginny's lips and pulling her closer. _I've just won._

_**Finis**_

**Jenna's Notes: **This fic was a lot of fun to write, and I'm a bit sad about having to end it. But I won't be able to start this fic at all without all my inspirations.

To the cool Orange Crushers in FictionAlley Park, who started this list of impossible H/G scenarios way back in our fifth thread. I added the idea of _Miss Hogwarts_ there and thought, why not make a fic out of it?

The whole idea of _Miss Hogwarts_, like I had mentioned, is inspired by similar contests in my university. There are a lot of them here. But of course, I wouldn't dream of writing a Harry Potter fic about it if Dan Radcliffe hadn't dressed in drag in _That Play What I Wrote_. (But really, I wasn't thinking of him when I wrote the pillow scene in chapter ten, _All That Hair_. I swear.)

Speaking of the pillow scene, thanks again to Lexan a.k.a. Bohemian Vixen a.k.a. Queen of Slytherin for the wonderful idea, and to my two younger brothers (Who Shall Not Be Named) who blatantly explained what it's like. Imagine that.

More inspirations include _Moulin Rouge_, _Chicago_ and _Charlie's Angels_. Those movies just rock.

And of course, to my accomplices: the ever-helpful Alli and Kate, J.A.A. a.k.a. dindranesdefender, Sirena Black, Amy and Laurel Grey. If not for them, this fic wouldn't be as great as (you say you think) it is.

Those who created fanarts for me: AgiVega (Harry in Drag, Miss Gryffindor and Miss Slytherin), Dexter (Harry in Drag), Ginny (Heaven at Midnight), Foxx (Harriet says you're going down!) and Monica Mae (Miss Hogwarts poster). You are the GREATEST.

My REVIEWERS! You're my inspiration! You brought this fic to its last chapter! Special thanks goes to Kate a.k.a. Sad Diamond, for those long reviews. :-)

And finally, to J.K. Rowling for creating a world that gives couch potatoes, like me, something to do...and for creating Harry and Ginny, the one couple I love to love. H/G _**rules**_, d00d!

I hope you enjoyed _Miss Hogwarts_ and, er, learned something from it.;-)

Please check out my LJ (**livejournal.com/~ladyofthesnitch**) for FAQ answers, and my site (**jenna.bekkis.com**) for fanarts. Thank you!

_[claps as Harriet bows down to the audience]_

* * *

"Mmm...Her—Hermione? Hermione."

Hermione opened her eyes and blinked at Ron. "What?"

Ron's flushed face hovered above her. "There's...something—wait, I'll just sit up for a minute—"

With a grunt, Ron straightened up and ran a hand through his hair that was sticking up in all directions. Hermione, still lying on the couch, smiled up at him. "What?" she asked again.

Ron looked at her hesitantly. "You remember...when Harry and I were dancing?"

"Of course. In fact, I'm extremely jealous."

"No—forget the dance, Hermione," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "I wanted to ask you about the—er, that girl who yelled—you know."

"Everyone was yelling at you, Ron."

"Well, yeah—I know I'm great and all," he added, earning him a playful swat from Hermione. "But I was asking about the one who...yelled 'I love you, Ron.'"

Hermione blinked again, then looked at him suspiciously. "Why are you asking this?"

Ron shrugged.

"Well, if you must know," Hermione said, sighing, "it was Jenna Mae."

It was Ron's turn to look confused. "Who's Jenna Mae?"

"She left Hogwarts two years ago, Ron," Hermione explained. "She's a writer."

"Oh." Ron nodded in understanding. "Jenna Mae."

Hermione gave him another one of her suspicious looks. "You're not...thinking about—"

_"No,"_ Ron said vehemently. "I mean...she's a bit mad, isn't she?"

"Maybe she is," Hermione said. "But she's the one who put us on this couch, and Harry and Ginny outside—"

"She _what_?" Ron yelled. "Harry and Ginny—_snogging_? Urgh! They're outside?"

Ron started to stand up, but Hermione grabbed his collar. "Shut up," she told him. "Leave them alone."

Then she pulled him down and kissed him again.

_Ha ha._

_**THE END!**_


End file.
